


desert’s oasis

by selcouthinspired



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Violence, Families of Choice, Force Bond (Star Wars), Found Family, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Protective Ahsoka Tano, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selcouthinspired/pseuds/selcouthinspired
Summary: oasis (n.) a pleasant or peaceful area or period in the midst of a difficult, troubled, or hectic place or situationAt the age of three, her people deceived by a Jedi imposter, Ahsoka Tano was taken by the bounty hunter Latrans.At the age of nine, promised by Qui-Gon Jinn that he would be freed and trained as a Jedi once the threat of the Sith was vanquished, Anakin Skywalker was left behind on Tatooine.A decade later, the Force forging for them a new destiny, the two meet in the streets of Mos Espa, unaware of how they’ll change each other’s lives - and the fate of the galaxy - forever.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker, Kitster Chanchani Banai/Gregar Typho, Padmé Amidala & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala & Sabé, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Plo Koon & Ahsoka Tano, Shmi Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Comments: 194
Kudos: 400





	1. between stars and souls

Ahsoka didn’t understand it. She didn’t have a name for it, but she felt it constantly, could summon it and channel it when she most needed. It was bigger than her, she knew, and everyone had it - though only some, herself included, understood it as something tangible, some invisible current, a sort of cosmic energy. It was something that connected all things both living and dead, and it flowed through the universe’s individuals, some more strongly than others. Within herself, Ahsoka recognized that feeling as potential, something not fully formed, but still admirable. Still growing.

And when she freed herself from the wreckage of her stolen ship and waded through Tatooine’s Dune Sea for the first time, unaware of where to go, it was this feeling - similar, but different from herself, beckoning - that led her through that first night. Until day broke, until the call wasn’t so urgent, Ahsoka did not stop. Atop a great canyon, she spotted the silhouette of a large settlement sitting against the backdrop of dawn, and strengthened her resolve. She would keep going. She would not let the one she ran from reclaim her, not without a fight.

And the closer she came to said settlement bustling with morning activity - ships docking in and out and gleaming faintly against pre-morning glow - the stronger the feeling she’d followed grew between herself and its source. _Wherever_ it emanated.

But then, suddenly, she _knew_. She stopped on the path that led into a market’s direction entrance, turned her head minutely to the side. There, out in a junkheep some distance away... Ahsoka recognized that feeling she’d followed all night; that feeling she held within herself, in another.

Her vision tunneled to a single figure, so small from that distance, but a storm within the space between stars and souls nonetheless. They stood beneath the belly of a ship, discernible features obscured. They appeared to be working on the plating, tool in hands, sparks flying around them. Ahsoka focused on that aspect invisible to the eyes, the kind only recognized within. What she saw there was brilliant light against a backdrop of darkness; lightning in a storm - beautiful and luminescent, but deadly all the same.

And that figure, seeming to recognize the eyes of another peering deeper than skin stopped, stilled, turned...

Words translated in feeling more than concrete, solid shapes taking form...

 _Someone like me_.

Before Ahsoka could let doubt feed her decision, before she could allow herself to dwell, she started toward them, scaling the steep hill that led down into the market. On flat ground again, she lost sight of the junkheep. Still, the feeling lingered, leading her as scent might lead a massiff. Some locals cursed at her as their paths crossed, knocking her out of their way. But Ahsoka, singularly focused, couldn’t be bothered.

She did notice, however, that the adrenaline that had distracted her the last few hours had started to fade. The pains she’d endured and the bruisings she’d acquired both before and during the crash landing onto Tatooine’s surface started to make themselves known. Ahsoka grimaced, remembering the vicious scratch down the back of her lekku courtesy her keeper’s claws. They left a stinging sensation even now, but at least the wounds had clotted.

The further she ventured into the market, the closer she felt she came to that other. But so focused was she on locating the point of origin that she failed to feel the malicious gazes of a few individuals nearby. Individuals who approached, reached out...

“Hey, whelp!” Someone spat directly behind her. A hand clamped around her bruised arm, spinning her to face the owner of the voice, a humanoid boy, not much older than herself, perhaps. And his friend, a Rodian who appeared just a bit older.

“What are you doing out here so early without your master?” The Rodian slurred.

For a moment, panic seized Ahsoka’s limbs before she remembered there was no way they could know. She ripped herself free of the first boy’s grip, and he stumbled. She ducked beneath his flailing arms attempting to reclaim her, took a step back and watched the way they both swayed. _Drunk_ , she grimaced, _and no where near mid-day._

“I don’t have a master.” Ahsoka said, feigning calm. Internally, she braved for a fight. They seemed the type to constantly aggravate, if the way the locals swept around them both in wide berths was anything to go by.

“A Togruta on Tatooine?” The Rodian asked, amused as she balled her fists, ready to defend. “I think you’re either a slave, or a runaway.”

Ahsoka flinched. The men sneered, closing in-

“Greedo. Falma.” A new voice cut in directly behind her, slicing the tension of the moment clean in half. “The third moon hasn’t even left the sky, and you two pieces of bantha fodder are already kicking up sands you won’t be able to sweep.”

“Skywalker.” The Rodian sneered, addressing the newcomer, eyes fixed on a point just above Ahsoka’s head. Visibly angered by Skywalker’s words, he spat, “ _Poodoo_. You better run back to Watto before your tracker detonates.”

Though Ahsoka couldn’t see the man’s - _Skywalker’s_ \- face, she felt his countenance darken considerably. Something was faintly familiar about that energy, that shift in temperament. Ahsoka’s eyes widened when she recognized, turned...

Came face to face with the one, she realized in the moment their eyes met, who’d guided her from her downed ship and through the desert until day break.

For a moment, they regarded one another, assessing and sizing the other up. It was as clear to him as it was to her - a mutual recognition. _Someone like me_. Again, those words more in feeling than solid syllable, but understandable all the same...

 _Let me handle this_ , he seemed to breathe between the distance of their minds. _Trust_ _me_.

Ahsoka blinked, opened her mouth to speak-

“Look at those scratches.” Falma barked, and Ahsoka threw her hands up, turning back as she covered her tattered lekku. “Wherever she came from, she didn’t leave without a fight.”

“And yet,” Skywalker said, stepping forward, placing himself between Ahsoka and the two drunkards, “She got away. So, I’ll say it again: don’t kick up sands you can’t sweep.”

When neither moved, his brows lowered considerably. When he spoke, it was with a too-serious calm that sent shivers up even Ahsoka’s spine.

“ _Get lost_.”

“Hey,” the boy Falma muttered, gulping, “We’re... we’re just drunk. C’mon, Greedo. It’s too early for his wizard tricks. We don’t wanna... don’t wanna get in trouble with the Hutts.”

“It won’t be us getting into trouble.” Greedo said, eyeing Ahsoka even as Falma started to drag him away, “Mark my words, she _belongs_ to somebody. They’ll come looking for her, Skywalker, and not even Watto’s word will save you from Hutt law when he finds out you helped and harbored.”

Skywalker watched them until they were out of sight, then spun on his heel.

“ _Are_ you a slave?” He asked.

“ _No_.” Ahsoka responded, too quickly, too sharp.

“Don’t lie to me.” He warned, “I can tell when people are lying.”

“I’m _not_ a slave.” Ahsoka squared her shoulders. “Not anymore, at least. I escaped last night.”

Skywalker sighed, shook his head...

“Well, you’re better off returning from wherever you came from. Every slave has a tracking device. When your master discovers you’re gone, they’ll detonate the chip and you’ll die.”

“I don’t have a chip.” Ahsoka said, certain of at least that. “I’m not from here.”

“Then wherever you _are_ from, you better hope the one you’re running from can’t track you.”

“They can’t.” Ahsoka insisted, but doubt filled her. “My ship was damaged. It crashed somewhere out in the desert.”

“So, _you_ were the shooting star.” Skywalker said with realization.

“The what?”

“Last night,” He stated off-handedly, waving toward the sky, “Some of the local children saw your ship crash and thought you were a fallen star. They made a wish on you. _I_ knew better though. I’d thought you’d died.”

“ _Well_ ,” Ahsoka snarked, “ _Thanks_. I didn’t die, though.”

” _Clearly_.” Skywalker said pointedly, “And don’t get snippy with me, little one. I just saved you a mornings headache from those two.”

“Okay, _Skyguy_.” She said sarcastically. Skywalker glowered a moment before shaking his head and walking away. Ahsoka watched him before she thought to ask, catching up to his side, “Hey, what does ‘ _don’t kick up sands you can’t sweep_ ’ mean?”

Skywalker glanced at her from the peripheral, said, “It means, ‘ _don’t pick a fight you can’t win_ ’.”

Ahsoka considered that. The corners of her lips tugged involuntarily up in satisfaction, and Skywalker flashed her a brief smirk of his own before his expression turned worrisome.

“You should get that treated.” He pointed to her lekku. Ahsoka, remembering the wounds, winced.

“I don’t have any medical supplies.” She said, “Is there a place I can go?”

Skywalker huffed, “Not without money.”

Ahsoka’s shoulders slumped.

“Then... no.” She couldn’t disguise her disappointment, “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

Skywalker said nothing, clearly ready to conclude with their conversation. Ahsoka wrapped her arms around herself, gazed uncertainly to the side. Skywalker slowed his pace, pinched the bridge of his nose...

“I’m going to regret this.” He muttered, staring ahead. After a beat, he looked to her, gestured forward with his head and said, “Follow me.”

Ahsoka raised a single brow marking.

Skywalker sighed, “Watto has some medical supplies at the shop. Probably expired, but... better than nothing. And on top of that, I’m not about to leave you alone out here.”

“Hey,” Ahsoka rebuffed, indignant, “I resent that. I could’ve taken care of myself.”

She pointed to herself, corrected, “ _Can_ take care of myself.”

“I _know_.” Skywalker chuckled, “It isn’t _you_ I’m worried about. It’s whatever fool tries to cross you.”

He picked up his previous pace, not looking back to see if Ahsoka followed. But he didn’t have to. She did, silently grateful. But he felt that. Together, they started for the edge of the town, avoiding the mayhem of the inner-most streets to reach their destination. As they walked, Ahsoka thought to ask,

“Hey, what’s your name? It isn’t really Skywalker, is it?”

Skywalker considered her a moment, seemed to be reading her in the way she often read others, determined if she was trustworthy. Whatever he’d been looking for, he’d seemed to have found it. Quietly he relented, “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Well, Anakin Skywalker,” Ahsoka offered him a hand. He crossed his arm over his chest, grasped her fingers and shook. She continued, “Its good to meet you. I’m Ahsoka Tano.”

“Good to meet you, Ahsoka Tano.” Anakin said, amused at her exuberance, trying and failing to disguise a growing smile.

* * *

“You led me here.” Ahsoka said, matter-of-fact. She sat on the counter of Watto’s yet to open shop, looking around at all the repurposed parts that sat and hung around the store while Anakin rooted around through a back room, looking for bacta patches.

“Well, obviously.” Anakin remarked, voice carrying. Ahsoka rolled her eyes.

“Not _here_ , here. Because you did lead me here. But I meant through the desert.“

“I... don’t know about that. If I did, it wasn’t intentional.” Anakin said, strangely defensive. He seemed pensive about something when he strode back into the main room, three bandages and a disinfectant cloth in hand. He motioned at Ahsoka to turn around so he could work on her wounds. She obliged and, tilting her head to give him a better angle, spoke,

“Well, it was you. It felt like you. Feels like you, now. After I woke up, I felt... _something_. I feel it sometimes. I don’t have a name for it, but I know you have it, too.”

“It’s called the Force. That thing that you’re feeling.” Anakin quipped. He applied the disinfectant first. Ahsoka hissed at the pain, and he muttered a quiet apology as he applied the patches.

“The _Force_?” Ahsoka asked, turning back to face him once all the patches were applied, sighing at the sensation of mending tears, “How do you know?”

“I met a Jedi once when I was a kid.” Anakin said, throwing out the wrappings into a waste retainer. He made his way through the shop. Ahsoka hopped off the counter, following him. “He said the thing we... _share_... is called the Force.”

“Oh.” Ahsoka said, then, “What’s a Jedi?”

“Have you been living under an asteroid?” Anakin joked. Ahsoka scowled. Anakin cleared his throat in lieu of apology and continued, “A Jedi. You know? They carry lightsabers. They can... can feel things, the way you said you’d felt me nearby.”

“Okay, I understand that part, but...” Ahsoka shook her head, confused, “What’s a _lightsaber_?”

“C’mon,” Anakin beckoned. For the first time since meeting him, Ahsoka thought she saw something akin to excitement in his eyes. “I have a holovid somewhere in my room. I’ll show you.”

He gestured for her to follow him. They walked out of the main shop and into a back room, then even further through a storage facility unit and stopped in a room barely big enough to fit them both, a single bunk lining the wall opposite the threshold with repurposed crates lined with drawers stacked off to the side. A round, shuttered window sat in the ceiling, barely shedding morning light onto the floor. A poster for some event hung above the bunk, auberesh so faded Ahsoka couldn’t even make out what it said. Despite its cramped confinement, however, the room was sturdy and tidy. An organized chaos.

“You live here?” Ahsoka asked, a little incredulous. Not even her bedroom had been so... _compact_.

“I didn’t use to.” Anakin supplied, but didn’t elaborate. Ahsoka made herself comfy on the bed while Anakin, shooting her a glare, rooted around for the disc. She shrugged at him; he scowled but said nothing, began sorting through the drawers again, looking for the right one, making an _a-ha_ noise when he found it.

“Where did you live before?” Ahsoka asked, watching him set up the holo on the floor.

“With the other slaves.” Anakin said absently, but Ahsoka felt something stirred within him at his own words, a memory he dared not disturb. Was he unaware of the feelings he translated through though? _Maybe_ , Ahsoka decided, _if he had been unaware of the fact that he lead me to him_.

Like a homing beacon, he’d given her direction.

Ahsoka slid off the bed and down beside her new friend, crossing her legs as he fired up the hologram. It depicted a woman much older than either of them, her accented basic filtering through the speaker,

“ _This is form V. The way of the Krayt Dragon. The form of perseverance. Due to the level of aggression it extends_ -“

“Who is that?” Ahsoka asked.

“ _Shh_.” Anakin sounded. At Ahsoka’s pout, he added quietly so as to not drown out the Jedi, “Master Syav.”

“Do you know her?” Ahsoka asked.

“No.” Anakin whispered, “The data on this holo indicates the recording was made several centuries ago.”

“Explains why it’s so junked.” Ahsoka commented, noting the flickering image and skipping display. “Where did you find this, then?”

“... The junk yard.” Anakin relented, never taking his eyes off the Jedi hologram, “You’d be amazed at what people will throw out. I once built an entire protocol droid from scrapped parts.”

“ _No way_.” Ahsoka’s eyes widened, looking around, “Where?”

“They’re not here anymore.” Anakin said, shaking his head. Briefly, his gaze registered forlorn. But then he pointed at the display, nudging her arm.

“Just watch!”

“Okay! Okay...”

In the holo, Master Syav finished speaking, took a cylindrical object out of the folds of her long robes she dressed in and pressed a button on its hilt. A blade of pure light sprung to life, hissing as it did. Ahsoka’s eye markings rose considerably, and she leaned in to get a better look.

“ _In this lesson, I’ll teach you the basic steps of both Shien and Djem So. First, Shien..._ ”

Her lightsaber deflected bolts from some unknown source. Eight moves, all precise. She repeated them once and then once again, then moved on to Djem, where an opponent stepped into the holo with a sword of their own.

“Is that the lightsaber?” Ahsoka asked, pointing to the swords as they clashed.

“Yeah.” Anakin nodded, smirking. He rested his head on bent knee. “Pretty wizard, right?”

They moved through attack and defense stances, blocking and parrying and twisting around one another like it was a dance. Every time the lightsabers struck and slid off the other, the shriek they sounded sent satisfying chills down Ahsoka’s spine.

“Wow.” Ahsoka intoned when the holo recycled back to the beginning. She sat back on her heels, mesmerized, “So that’s a Jedi... I can’t believe you met one, once!”

“Neither can I.” Anakin said wistfully, standing back up. He removed the recording from the holo and placed it back in its drawer, then shoved the holo beneath his bed. Ahsoka stood as well, walking out of the room and back into the main shop.

“What were they like?” She wanted to know, “Did they have a lightsaber, too?”

“All Jedi have lightsabers.” Anakin informed, “Qui-Gon’s was green. I saw him wield it once against a Zabrak with a double edged red saber.”

“That must’ve been so cool.” Ahsoka murmured, trying to imagine it.

“Actually,” Anakin responded, vision going somewhere Ahsoka’s could not, “It was terrifying.”

Ahsoka regarded him. What did he hide beneath that suddenly haunted gaze? She decided then and there, working her way through Watto’s shop, that she would discover the cause.

“Listen, Ahsoka.” Anakin said when they reached the foyer, “It was nice meeting you, but Watto will be opening up shop pretty soon, and if he finds you here he’ll kick you out. Or worse, he’ll turn you over to the Hutts. If you are running from someone, I suggest you find a way off planet before nightfall. Smugglers are always hiring. You’ll find them in the shipping yard. They don’t tend to ask too many questions if you present them with some sort of skill.”

“Oh,” Ahsoka said, disappointed, speaking over her shoulder even as Anakin ushered her outside, “Yeah. You’re right... I should get going. Thank you for telling me what it’s called. _The Force_. I never had a name for it, before. Oh, and thank you for getting those two to leave me alone earlier. And for showing me that holo of the Jedi. And for giving me the bacta patches. And for—”

“Okay, little one.” Anakin chuckled, cutting her off, “You’re welcome. For everything. Now, go. _Shoo_. I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Okay.” Ahsoka stepped out beneath the shade of the storefront awning, turned and gave a full bow. She used to detest the action, having only ever showed the respectful gesture to the one she despised, but performing it for Anakin felt only right. Due respect, rather than forced gratitude.

Then, not waiting for his response, she turned on her heal and scampered off, missing his incredulous but touched expression follow her all the way down and through the street until she was out of sight.

But even then, turning to head back inside, he felt her through the Force. The way he’d felt so many before. Qui-Gon, the Zabrack, the sinister voice that sometimes whispered to him when he called upon the Force...

He shivered, tried not to think about that. Breathing deeply, he extended a silent prayer to the oldest desert deities.

_Help Ahsoka get off-world. Help Ahsoka get away from whoever she’s run from._

* * *

Latrans grit her teeth, cursed, spat. The console screen read _tracking failed, locator destroyed_ in the basic aubresh. She banged her fist against the display, shattering the glass. The words fizzled and faded. She breathed sporadically, trying to calm herself down. Ahsoka had run and possibly died and... _No_. She was too resourceful, too expert at flying. She would have wanted her to believe that, would have sabotaged the Saboteur to down itself in such an expert way it would look, from anyone else’s eyes, like an accident. But not Latrans’s. She’d raised the girl, after all, had watched her thoughts take shape and evolve and plan and decipher. She’d been the hands that molded Ahsoka’s ability to tap into the Force. Without her guidance, Ahsoka’s potential would’ve been left to rot serving beneath that group of religious idealists who’d destroyed her people’s empire so long ago. Without their restrictions, without definite ideals, Ahsoka possessed abilities that transcended other Force users. All she’d ever needed was a push, and she brought an edge to Latrans’s craft that other bounty hunters didn’t get: insight, advantage, power to manipulate and move and control.

And she’d invested too much time and effort in the Togruta whelp to let that go to waste.

Already idling in the ships last known location before jumping to hyperspace, Latrans swallowed her pride and contacted the only other bounty hunter she knew besides herself worth spending a credit on.

The Duro, Cad Bane.

* * *

Anakin prepared to return to the shipping yard when Watto flew in.

“Oh, good, you’re here. Saves me a trip. I’m having you run the shop today, Ani.” He said, barely paying the boy any mind as he grabbed a few items from beneath the counter, “I’m headed to the Dune Sea. There’s a downed ship out there. Might have some useful parts, if the Jawas haven’t gotten to it yet.”

“I could go with you, master.” Anakin said, thinking of Ahsoka, knowing if she’d left anything behind that could be traced that he could help her by destroying it. Or, the very least, removing any history of owner insignia code or flight log. Watto only waved a flippant hand, though.

“It’s too hot, today. Stay inside and serve the customers.”

“But I could—”

”Don’t argue with me.” Watto pointed, “And stop setting off the drunks before the suns even rise. I had to listen to that wanna-be bounty hunter Greedo on my way here about you costing him a fortune, or whatever nonsense.”

”He was harassing someone.” Anakin defended.

”You know he targets you, specifically.” Watto reprimanded, “Ever since you used those voodoo powers on him. If you do it again, there’s nothing I can do to stop him from killing you.”

Anakin scoffed, “He couldn’t kill me.”

”No,” Watto agreed, making his way out the door. “He’d have Jabba do it.”

* * *

Ahsoka had meant to find the smugglers, truly - she’d even prepared a speech meant to invoke their sympathies. But it occurred to her, stumbling through the city, that she hadn’t any idea where the shipping yards even were. Anakin hadn’t told her. And it was getting... extremely hot. She was tired, and hungry, and thirsty. And that alcove supplying shade over there by that defunct watering hole had looked really inviting, and maybe if she could just take a moment to catch her breath and clear her head and catalogue her surroundings she could-

And then she was asleep.

* * *

Ahsoka panted, bent on hands and knees, spittle slipping from the side of her mouth and mixing with the dirt below. Above her, a shadow swallowed her slight frame, it’s clawed hand growing larger...

“Get up.” Latrans ordered, gripping her by her arm and hauling her to unsteady feet. Ahsoka attempted to stand, but when her Master’s support fell away, her exhausted limbs shook, gave out-

“ _Stop_ this acting.” Latrans barked, angry now. Ahsoka hadn’t time to scramble back up before her Master’s fist connected with her head. She yelped, montrals rattling. Her hands flew reflexively up, attempting to shield...

“I’m sorry.” Ahsoka gasped, vision a mess. _This always happens_ , she tried to reason with herself, _it’ll go back to normal, soon_. _Just take deep breaths._ But the unnamed source of violence that always seemed to follow Latrans during training sessions popped off like a blaster bullet. She gripped her by her right lekku, used it to drag her through the dirt soaked with her spit up.

“You possess the ability.” Latrans got in low near her face, voice an odd soft, a quality that directly juxtaposed the pain she placed upon Ahsoka. “Why is it so difficult one moment from the next?”

Ahsoka struggled to catch her breath, clear her spotted sight. Before her, Latrans face faded in and out of focus.

“I’m trying, master.” She coughed weakly, “Please.”

Latrans took a deep breath, releasing her. Ahsoka hit the ground with her elbows. Wasting no time, she shoved herself back onto her knees and sunk her hands into the dirt. Closing her eyes, she concentrated once more...

Beneath her hands, the ground started to rumble.

“I want a crater this time.” Latrans said, eyeing the fissures Ahsoka had already carved out, “I wouldn’t want to punish you, should you be unable to complete the test.”

Ahsoka ground her teeth, fingers curling...

The world seemed to bend, and with a strangled scream, the ground beneath her _sunk_.

Ahsoka heaved, limbs on fire. Her thoughts dwelled in dark spaces, as they always did when she forced her powers into contortions too extreme, but she channeled it. She dug her fingernails into the dirt, grit her teeth, and turned her head. She looked to Latrans...

... whose glinting eyes offset her satisfied smile.

Ahsoka startled awake with a gasp. She shot up, the dream - no, the _memory_ \- chasing her out of sleep. She grimaced as she sat, realizing the crick in her neck and her parched tongue. Time had visibly passed, the twin suns way past the mid-day mark and shining directly into her eyes. The shade she’d been supplied when she’d arrived had shifted beneath the awning as the suns had swept the sky. Ahsoka realized then how hot her flesh was. Not burnt, but definitely scorched.

Ahsoka briefly panicked, wondering what she would do. The smugglers were no doubt long gone by now. She hadn’t a way off the planet. But more pressing than that, she was hungry. She hadn’t eaten well before she’d fled Latrans, and though she’d gone without food for much longer before, her bruised body needed sustenance more than ever.

Before she could even fully decide on a course of action, her feet moved of their own accord, half dragging through the dusty sidewalks. Curious passerby watched her from beneath hoods and visors, a few even stopping to watch her. _What was wrong with them?_ Ahsoka wondered, _Hadn’t they ever seen a Togruta before?_ The answer, she surmised, having rarely seen many of her people herself, was most likely a resounding no.

She belatedly hoped that her presence on Tatooine didn’t cause too much of a scandal, if it hadn’t already.

“Hey, Skyguy,” she mumbled, stepping into the shop once she’d rediscovered its front door, “I don’t feel so great.”

“Ahsoka?” Came his voice, and her head swiveled around on her neck to find him marching towards her, face a little covered in grease, a lot more filled in with lines of concern. He asked, “What are you doing here? I’d thought you’d left by now.”

“I fell asleep.” She said pitifully, “I’m really thirsty. And hungry. And _hot_.”

Anakin reached out with one hand, too fast, and Ahsoka flinched. He blinked, searching her face, tried again — this time deliberately slow and hesitant. When she didn’t startle, he rested one hand down upon her shoulder. With the other, he pressed the back of his fingers to her forehead, felt them there a moment before he _tsked_. Ahsoka’s eyes fluttered. Unable to hold herself up any longer, she fell into his touch.

“You’ve gone delirious.” He sighed, but didn’t push her away. “Did you fall asleep directly beneath the suns?”

“ _No_.” Ahsoka whined, voice muffled in the folds of his clothes, “They snuck up on me.”

“Okay,” He huffed, finally prying her off, turning her on her heel and steering her somewhere she didn’t care to open her eyes to see. “C’mon, we need to get you cooled down.”

Ahsoka only nodded, and the moments between one and the next melded together. Her feet walked until they didn’t, her body stood upright until it didn’t. She lied down, slipping in and out of semi-awareness as Anakin moved around her. His presence was steady and sturdy - but it was slipping away from her, the further she fell away from consciousness. The last thing she was fully aware of before nodding off was the sensation of liquid dribbling down her throat, a hand holding up her head. Then, there was darkness, and the moments stopped melding. Ahsoka sat up in a rush when she realized it, damp rags falling from her arms and legs, her face as well.

“... You’re awake.”

Ahsoka followed that voice, Anakin’s voice, found Anakin reclining beside her on an uncomfortable looking stool, yawning and stretching as if he, too, had just awoken. It was then that Ahsoka realized where she was, sitting up in Anakin’s bed, in Anakin’s room, watching him wake as she had just done so suddenly.

“How long have I been here?” She asked, a little miffed. She removed the rags, an eye marking shooting up at him. “What... are these?”

“It was to help cool you down. And I’m not sure, I fell asleep a little bit after you. But, judging by the sky, a while.” Anakin shrugged, answering her questions out of order, stretching his neck out. He turned to her, reached out. Ahsoka flinched back, pure reflex. Anakin stilled, assessing her.

“I just wanna check your temperature, Snips.” He said placatingly, eyebrows climbing his forehead, “Make sure the fevers gone down.”

“Oh.” Ahsoka frowned, then jutted her head forward. “Okay. And... did you forget my name was Ahsoka?”

“No.” Anakin chuckled, fingers pressing down over her forehead. They were a cold balm compared to the heat radiating off her skin. Despite the callouses on Anakin’s hand, his touch was a gentle that she’d never experienced before. “It’s a nickname.

“You know,” he said pointedly, smiling. “Like the one you gave me?”

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, but his smile was infectious. 

“Your fevers gone down,” Anakin informed, hand falling away. “But take this anyway.”

He reached down, grabbed a capsule sitting between them on a makeshift stand. Ahsoka eyed it skeptically, her suspicion clear.

“It’s to help you feel better.” Anakin explained, exasperated.

“Oh, okay.” Ahsoka said, grabbing it between two fingers. She was reluctant to take it, tricked too many times in the past by... another. But Anakin appeared trustworthy, hadn’t done her any harm. And in his words she felt the conviction of his every consonant and vowel. He hadn’t given her reason not to trust him yet, and in that feeling... the _Force_... she sensed he hadn’t lied. So, she popped the capsule’s contents into her mouth. It tasted like most medicine, bland and bitter. _Blech_.

“Well,” she said, embarrassed at having clearly been a bad guest, “Thanks for taking me in again. I should get going—”

“Hey, whoa!” Anakin stopped her from getting up, gently pushing her back down when she tried to stand, “It’s nighttime now. Tatooine’s too dangerous to be prowling around at night. Even for you.”

He tapped her nose with his knuckle, making her eyes cross, then laughed when she batted his hand away. She looked up through the windows slats. It was, indeed, dark out, the stars peppering the sky.

“I can’t stay here!” Ahsoka protested anyway, “This is your bed! Besides, won’t your master be mad if he finds me?”

“Watto’s not here right now.” Anakin said, “Last I saw him, he was going to retrieve whatever remained of the wreckage of your ship. I hope you didn’t leave anything incriminating behind.”

“I... I don’t think I did. But, how long does that give me?”

“He left hours ago and has yet to return. It’s nighttime though, and Watto’s not one to stay out past suns-fall. Most likely, he’s returned but is gambling somewhere. So, you have at least until morning. You can stay here, I guess... at least until you figure out a plan.”

“I don’t... know where to go.” Ahsoka confessed, indecision clouding her thought track. Her only goal had been to get away from Latrans. The decision to run had been one conceived in moments, opportunities and scenarios purely imagined. Actually getting the chance... had been purely coincidental. “Maybe I’ll become one of those Jedi?”

“I thought I would, too.” Anakin muttered, more to himself than to her. His eyes fixed on nothing, lost in a memory. “But he never came back.”

“What?” Ahsoka asked, curiosity piqued. Anakin, realizing what he’d confessed, turned his gradually widening eyes to the girl. She looked up at him, imploring.

“Forget that.” He bit, moving past her.

“No way!” Ahsoka exclaimed, sitting up. She hopped off the bed, following him. “You were going to be a Jedi?”

“Yes, I was going to be a Jedi.” Anakin sounded affronted, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“If you were going to be a Jedi, why didn’t you?”

Anakin stopped, faced her again - the little Togruta girl who didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon, and responded,

“Because when he came... when Qui-Gon showed up... he needed parts to fix his ship. It was imperative he leave the system as soon as possible, but he didn’t have enough money. I agreed to help him get the parts for his ship from Watto, so he made a bet with Watto who agreed to allow me to enter the Boonta Eve Classic. It was part of the deal. If I won the pod-race, I’d secure the parts Qui-Gon needed.

“Unbeknownst to me at the time, Qui-Gon had also bet on my freedom. He was going to take me to Coruscant to become a Jedi. I won the race, but... by the time the ship was repaired, it was too late. The Zabrack I’d mentioned showed up and attacked. To protect me, Qui-Gon left me behind. He’d said he’d come back for me, but...”

Anakin’s voice died. His expression fell.

“It’s been a decade since that time.”

Ahsoka considered Anakin’s crestfallen face, only had to deliberate on what to do between one heartbeat and the next. Reaching up, she grabbed a hold of Anakin’s shoulder, dragged him down to her level and touched her montrals to the crown of his head. He sputtered, tensed, but didn’t pull away.

“Snips...” He cleared his throat, “What are you doing?”

“Comforting you.” Ahsoka replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe, “This is how my people did it. It’s... one of the only things I remember about them.”

“Oh.” Anakin murmured, fidgeting only slightly, “Okay... thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Ahsoka smiled, eventually pulling away. Anakin righted himself, scratched his neck in embarrassment. Ahsoka continued, “But I was a little lost during your story. What’s a _Boonta Eve Classic_? What’s a _pod-race_?”

The tense line of his shoulders dropped. Mirth filled his eyes. Anakin grinned, and Ahsoka had the sneaking suspicion that she would soon regret having asked those exact questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was inspired by many things, one of them being the end of the slaves of zygerria comic where anakin and ahsoka vow to free all the galaxy’s slaves once the war is over. another inspiration was Dave Filoni stating that one story he never got to explore was ahsoka being discovered by plo koon but was almost kidnapped by the bounty hunter latrans, a zygerrian with a deceiving appearance. also, I often wondered what would’ve happened if anakin never became a jedi. this AU is a lot of “what if...?” scenarios mixed together. I also wanted to explore one of my favorite relationships in Star Wars more, that of anakin and ahsoka’s sibling like bond. they’re what drew me into the Star Wars universe. hope you enjoyed the first chapter! there’s more on the way.
> 
> disclaimer: I don’t own Star Wars or any of its character, nor do I make profit from writing about them. This was written purely for fun, purely for free.


	2. an idea

Cad Bane took a long drag from his death stick when his holo-line beeped. He turned leisurely as the image flickered to life. Huh, he thought to himself, it’s been a long time...

“ _Latrans_.” He chuckled bitterly, “My oldest associate. What business you got wit’ me?”

“Cut the pleasantries, Bane.” The Zygerrian snapped, “You know I wouldn’t be contacting you if Jango Fett hadn’t gone awol almost a decade ago.”

“Lovely as ever.” The Duro quipped, “No need to figure out if dis call is for business or pleasure.”

“Indeed.” Latrans said, crossing her arms, “I’m pulling that favor you owe me.”

“Favor?” Bane asked, cryptic, “You’ll have to jog my memory.”

“I’m not playing games, Bane.” Latrans growled, “And you’ll like fulfilling this favor, I promise. It _pays_.”

“Must be important, den.” Bane conceded, stubbing out the ash against his desk. The dying smoke curled around his face as he added, “For you to be contacting me after costing me a fortune on Mandalore all dat time ago.”

“Think of this as compensation, then...” Latrans laughed, “At least I didn’t kill you.”

“You didn’t kill me,” Bane bit, “Because I didn’t let you.”

“Now, now...” Latrans mocked, “No need for old hurts to interfere with a bounty worth one-hundred thousand credits.”

Bane’s curiosity couldn’t be concealed. He tilted his head curiously, asked, “Unmarked?”

Latrans sighed, asked, “Why?”

“All dat talk in the Underworld, ‘bout da Senators leaving da Republic, following some Rogue Jedi... I’d say, dey hold some credibility. Give it a year or so... dey’ll start a war, den da Republic credits won’t mean squat anywhere past da inner-rim.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Dey already don’t, anyway.”

“Fine.” Latrans snapped, “It can be arranged.”

“Now,” Bane started anew, sitting back to talk business, “Tell me what dis mission entails, and I’ll tell you if your current offer is feasible.”

Latrans snarled at his bold statement, but explained it nonetheless. By the time she had finished, Bane was laughing.

“All dis,” He asked, incredulous, “For some youngling?”

“She’s worth a lot of money to me.” Latrans said, “I’ve invested too much time and too many resources in her to let her go so easily.”

“Perhaps next time, you’ll consider putting a tracker in her.”

Latrans bared her fanged teeth.

“... _Perhaps_.”

“Well, den.” Bane decided, “Da hard part will be da tracking. Dat alone will be a costly amount.”

He attempted to appeal, “How ‘bout we rendezvous somewhere and discuss da finer details?”

This time, it was Latrans who laughed.

“You know I’m not a fool, Bane. No. I’ll wire half the amount I promised to you now, and you’ll contact me when you have a lead. From there, we’ll talk through transmissions.”

And with that, the line fizzled out. Bane shook his head ruefully before grabbing his hat from his bed, securing it over his eyes and pulling the brim low.

“You’re right about ‘dat.” Bane surmised to himself, “You ain’t a fool...”

He walked across the room, activating the _Republic’s Most Wanted_ disc he’d copied years ago to a personal drive. He’d first seen it in a bar in the underworld at a bounty station. Latrans face had popped up. The reward for her capture had been modest then, but Bane hadn’t cared. He’d been fresh off their last mission together, still nursing his wounds. Wounds _she’d_ given him. He’d taken the bounty. And now...

Now, he’d finally be able to collect.

* * *

Anakin forwent his only bed, leaving Ahsoka no choice but to take it for the first night. He slept on the floor, leaving his only blanket to her, quickly falling into slumber anyway. Even after being settled in, however, Ahsoka was too wound up to do the same. Remaining awake, she witnessed first-hand a being in the throes of a nightmare.

Anakin thrashed and whimpered, spoke incoherently. Some terror seized him, but splaying a hand across his own seemed to ease some of it. Gradually, his breathing steadied, but not before...

“ _Mom_...!” He called out, once, voice breaking with the effort. Ahsoka wrapped her fingers around his wrist, concentrating. After a tense pause in which his entire body grew taught, Anakin slumped back down in exhaustion and succumbed to less fitful dreams. His voice quieted, fell away.

But that single word echoed in Ahsoka’s mind all the same.

She grabbed his blanket and draped it over him, hoping at least its warmth might bring him some semblance of peace.

* * *

“Preliminary races aren’t necessary to enter the Boonta Eve Classic, but they’re good for drawing audiences and starting betting pools.”

Anakin had worked for the better part of the day, was visibly exhausted but still adamant they go to the stadium. Ahsoka gazed down at the starting line from beneath the brim of the oversized cloak he’d lent her, admiring the designs of each individual race craft. Despite the heat, it was good to be out of the storage facility Anakin called a bedroom, a bedroom he’d subjected her to for all morning and half the afternoon so she wouldn’t be discovered by Watto.

Still, she’d found ways to occupy her time, going through Anakin’s things, snooping a bit, playing with his gadgets and watching his holo-discs.

She’d learned a lot; everything from the disparate parts that make a ship to the architecture of skyscrapers. Even more interesting, if not an odd addition to his recordings collection, were a bundle of news reports about a small sovereignty in the mid-rim. The holos were sparse, scattered. Something about a Trade Federation, a blockade, a Queen in peril.

Ahsoka had wanted to ask Anakin, but sensed it would only sour his mood.

“So, anyone can enter, even after preliminaries are over?” She asked.

“Yeah.” Anakin nodded absently, too absorbed with the revving pods. “Late entries are acceptable.”

Ahsoka absorbed that information, leaned forward right as the pod racers took off, whirling up a cloud of dust...

Belatedly, an idea took shape in her mind.

“Okay, I’m intrigued.” She admitted, “These ships are so small, though.”

“That’s pod-racing, for you.” Anakin replied wistfully.

“I’m guessing you can’t compete, anymore?” Ahsoka asked.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not many humans can, to begin with. It’s a sport for smaller species.”

Ahsoka smiled. That’s what she’d been hoping to hear.

“Individuals like me?”

He eyed her, expression neutral, but suspicious all the same.

“... Sure.” He relinquished after a hesitant beat.

“Okay.” Ahsoka decided, her plan commencing, “I want to.”

Anakin turned slowly to face her.

“You’re up to something.” He accused, pointing at her, “Why do I get the feeling it’s going to be dangerous?”

“Dangerous?” Ahsoka asked, moving his hand down, “What makes you think _me_ pod-racing would be _dangerous_?”

“For one,” Anakin snarked, “You can’t fly.”

Ahsoka crossed her arms, the affect she was going for ruined by the sleeves that dangled off her hands.

“ _Yes_ , I _can_.”

“ _No_ , you _can’t_. You crashed your only ship in the desert!”

“And you don’t think maybe I did that on purpose?”

Anakin leaned back, brows rising considerably.

“I... well, I...”

“Have some faith in me.” Ahsoka uncrossed her arms, her shoulders slumping. “Flying is actually one of the _only_ things I’m good at.”

“... You’re unbelievable.” Anakin shook his head, crossed his own arms and sat back. “You should be leaving, getting out of here while you still can.”

“It’s been more than a full rotation since I arrived.” Ahsoka surmised, “If she hasn’t found me by now, she never will.”

Ahsoka sensed Anakin’s curiosity at the mention of Latrans, but she decided he didn’t need to know anything more than she was willing to confess. If he discovered her former Master was one of the best bounty hunters in the galaxy, it would only set his nerves off - would only make him more adamant that she leave.

“Okay, Snips.” He sounded wary as he acquiesced. “If you want to pod-race, I won’t stop you. But good luck finding a pod.”

“Thanks.” Ahsoka smirked, “But I already have.”

Anakin suddenly glared daggers.

“You’ve been _busy_ , today, it would seem.”

“I got bored.” Ahsoka defended, avoiding his gaze. She shrugged a single shoulder. “I might have come across something that resembles a pod-craft.”

“ _Might_ have?”

“Yeah.” Ahsoka offered up a cautious smile, “ _Might_ have.”

Anakin dropped his head in his palm. From between his fingers he said, miserably,

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... I’ll teach you.”

* * *

Teaching, as it turned out, didn’t actually mean getting to take his refurbished pod out for a spin in the desert.

“Absolutely not.” Anakin said, not budging a bit to her requests, no matter how sincerely she phrased them. “The desert is too dangerous.”

“Did you forget that I spent an entire night cycle out there?” Ahsoka snapped, getting fed up. She sat in the cockpit of his only pod - the one he’d won the Boonta Eve Classic with so many years ago, the one she’d discovered sitting stashed in the way back of Watto’s storage facility - itching to take off, to get a feel for the throttle. “I can handle it. I won’t crash your speeder.”

“That’s not...” Anakin rubbed his forehead, struggling with his words, “You got lucky that time, Ahsoka. The desert is dangerous regardless of the time of day. I’d feel better about your chances if you had me with you, but I can’t follow you out there without my tracker detonating. So, no, you can’t go.”

Ahsoka slumped back. She let the engines die and crawled out. Anakin let out a long breath.

“What if I enter the pod-race, huh?” Ahsoka quipped, just to be bitter, “You can’t stop me, then.”

“You and what pod?” Anakin countered, “I never actually agreed to let you use it for the Boonta Eve Classic.”

Ahsoka met his glare head on. She pursed her lips, contemplating it.

“You’d let me.” She said, deliberately paced, “If it meant freeing you.”

Anakin blinked, and in the Force she sensed... too many things, the most potent of them being his doubt. She frowned at his sudden lack of trust in her abilities.

“What, you don’t think I could win?”

“That’s yet to be determined.” Anakin said, “But, it’s just... Watto would never agree.”

“Why not? He agreed to it in the past.”

“Yes, but that was... different. Qui-Gon going back on the deal meant that Watto could, too. He reactivated my chip, decided he didn’t want to let me go, anymore. Not when my friends pitched in with their own money to set me free. Not even when other slaver scum came along and offered to buy me... Watto couldn’t be deterred.”

“But why?” Ahsoka wondered, puzzled by it. It hadn’t seemed Watto had cared much at one point, if he’d been so willing to not gamble on Anakin’s abilities, to risk losing him in a bet.

“Because I proved I could win, and people were making betting pools, and Watto can’t resist a good gamble.” Anakin pursed his lips, continued, “Because... even though I can’t compete anymore... Watto knows he wouldn’t be able to run his business without me. I’m good at fixing things. And... let’s just say I can convince people who owe him money that they should deliver it to him as soon as possible.”

“You mean, use the Force.” Ahsoka’s voice lowered, “That’s not fair! He freed you. Isn’t there any honor to him?”

Anakin shrugged, but she sensed it bothered him more than he let on.

“That’s life, Ahsoka.”

“There’s got to be a way to free you.” Ahsoka surmised, “What if you contacted that Qui-Gon guy? Ask him why he never kept up his end of the deal?”

“Trust me, if I could have, I would have.” Anakin said, “He didn’t seem the type of person to break promises. The fact that he never came back tells me...”

He couldn’t finish, but Ahsoka filled in what he wouldn’t dare say.

_... something bad must have happened to him._

“Still,” Ahsoka tried, “There has to be something we can do.”

Anakin considered her, looked to be ready to argue when his gaze turned suddenly quizzical. He looked to the ground a moment, contemplative. When he looked up again, he said,

“... We?”

Ahsoka nodded, exasperated,

“Didn’t you hear me?”

“It’s just... why would you want to help me? You barely even know me.”

Ahsoka heard the undercurrent of emotion, the disbelief that someone would care so much as well as the warning that laced the spaces between his words. She didn’t understand that, whatever it was. If it was Anakin’s way of cautioning her against investing herself in such an endeavor, it wouldn’t work. Whatever wrong he’d committed...

It couldn’t have been worse than the things she’d done.

“You helped me.” Ahsoka reasoned, offering a small smile.

“Ahsoka,” Anakin sounded so conflicted, caught between a place of hope and despair, “You don’t have to do this. It’s dangerous.”

“If it means helping you,” Ahsoka decided, resolute, “Then it’s worth it. If I only manage to do one thing right in my life, then it should be this.”

It was clear by the expression on his face that Anakin didn’t know what to make of that - but that, instinctually, he understood. Still, she sensed his doubt. It permeated her thoughts as strongly as if they were her own.

_Let me handle this_ , she breathed between the distance of their minds, just as he had the day before. _Trust me_.

“I guess I have no choice, then.” Anakin surmised, revealing nothing. If he was hopeful, if he thought her foolish or that the entire endeavor they would soon commence to be all for naught, he didn’t show it. Not through his eyes or his face or the Force.

But Ahsoka held enough conviction for the both of them. She was capable of doing this. She would prove it.

She would free Anakin.


	3. legends and leveraging

The children told a tale, the legend of a once very different Tatooine, with water and vegetation, rich soil instead of gritty, abrasive sand. They told Ahsoka that the land would one day be restored to what it was when the evil had been defeated. It was night as they shared their story, surprisingly chilly weather for the desert planet. She’d gathered with them around a small fire in the center of the slaves’ neighborhood and asked them, _what evil?_ and they’d said, too serious, faces grim,

“The slug.”

 _They meant Jabba_ , Anakin would tell her later, after they’d returned to Watto’s shop for the night, _the Hutt who’s part of a clan that’s had control of this desert back-water since before the planet had two suns_.

But as Ahsoka sat with the children, palms outstretched to warm by the flames, Anakin lingered further out, talking with a man he’d introduced her to upon arriving. Kitster, a former slave, now a freed man. One of the friends who’d tried to free Anakin so long ago - a presence of pure tranquility. Ahsoka looked over her shoulder at him. He spoke to Anakin, their heads bent low, lost in conversation.

Ahsoka wondered what they discussed, but did not have to wonder for long. Abruptly, they both turned to look her way. It was Anakin who gestured her over. Hopping up, Ahsoka made her way to them. The children protested, clinging to her arms.

”Don’t go, Ahsoka!”

”It’s your turn to tell a story!”

”I’ll share my story one day,” Ahsoka said, laughing at their pouts. In their eyes she saw the doubt, felt all the promises others had made them and subsequently broken. She pried herself gently from their grasps, using the influence of the Force to reassure them when she said, “I promise.”

Appeased for the moment, they reluctantly let her go.

“I’ve discussed your intentions to Kitster regarding the pod-race.” Anakin informed once she’d reached his side. He looked put-upon. She sensed he was conflicted about something, but when was he not?

“I think what you’re doing for Anakin is very selfless.” Kitster said, smiling, “I have a way to help you both, and not just you, but every slave.”

With that, he reached into the pocket of his trousers, procured a flat, round disc. At first glance, it appeared to be a holo-device. But a closer inspection told Ahsoka otherwise. There was no access port, no radial grate.

“What is that?” Ahsoka asked. “It looks like a holo-device, but I can tell it’s not.”

“You’re right.” Kitster explained, handing it to her to inspect, “This isn’t a holo-device. It’s a device meant to locate our tracking devices, disguised as an everyday item.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened in fascination.

“How does it work?”

“So far, it doesn’t.” Anakin exuded worry, snatching the disc out of Ahsoka’s grasp before she could look at it too closely. Ahsoka huffed indignantly, but Anakin ignored her as he handed it back to Kitster. “I’ve been trying to perfect it for the past ten years. Because it’s something purely invented, acquiring the parts took... too long. And then...”

He paused, trailing off. Ahsoka registered frustration, forlorn, guilt... Anakin avoided her gaze.

“Watto found out about Anakin’s invention.” Kitster supplied after a silent moment, words almost a whisper, “He destroyed the original, and I keep the new device now so it won’t be lost again. One of the parts we need is very expensive. I’ve saved up money for it, but... I’m no where near having enough for it.”

”It’s an x-ray mechanism meant to scan the body. Inner rim technology that won’t interfere with a Tatooine tracker. Without it, it’s too dangerous to test on anyone.” Anakin added.

Kitster continued, “We didn’t have it before. But I’ve been testing the device on myself even without the x-ray mechanism, since my tracker being deactivated means there’s no risk it could detonate because of a body scan.”

“Detonate?” Ahsoka asked, alarmed, “What do you mean?”

Kitster shot Anakin a worried glance.

”A slave tested it for us once, took the risk for everyone involved.” Anakin said, “And they died because of my flaw. My failure.”

Ahsoka’s lips parted. She reached up a comforting hand-

But Anakin shrugged her off, shrugged past. Ahsoka jerked back slightly in shock, watching him go...

“Anakin has suffered many things.” Kitster spoke as Anakin stalked away. Ahsoka turned to face the man, who tried and failed to offer a reassuring smile, “With your help, his suffering can cease. And so can the suffering of all slaves.”

“What do you propose?” Ahsoka asked.

“Watto would never agree if you walked into his shop demanding a gamble on Anakin.” Kitster explained, “Many have tried since the Jedi, all have failed. What I suggest we do is have you gamble simple. We’ll craft a story that you’re a famous pod-racer. Watto knows little outside of Tatooine, and if Anakin can convince him that you’re a famous pod-racer, he won’t question your credibility. You’ll bargain for Anakin’s pod. You’ll split the earnings. When you win, we’ll use your prize money to purchase the missing part. No one will be suspicious of it, as you will have the money. And if they are interested in your affairs, well... we will have hopefully succeeded in finishing Anakin’s design before anyone can decide they want to do something about it.”

“You have a lot more faith in me then Anakin does.” Ahsoka said glumly.

“There was a time when Anakin held more conviction and faith, when he was ready to risk a lot more...” Kitster sighed, shook his head. “Now, he is more cautious. His lack of faith is not something to take so personally. He is only worried after you. And he thinks...”

“... That he isn’t worth all that I’m trying to do for him.” Ahsoka finished for him.

She looked over her shoulder at Anakin. He sat by the fire now, nothing in his eyes except the reflection of the licking flames.

And she felt his grief as viscerally as if it were her own.

* * *

The next morning, they commenced with their plan.

Watto was not expecting a Masterless Togruta, that much became clear to Ahsoka as soon as she stepped through the shop’s entrance.

“Are you here to pick up for a Usliv in Mos Eisley? I wasn’t aware he had a Togruta.” Watto scratched his head, searching her up and down, cataloguing the bruises, “You must be new, getting processed.”

“No.” Ahsoka said through clenched teeth, “I’m not here to pick up anything for anyone. I’m here to do business with you. I’m here to get a pod-craft. Word in town is, you’ve got a spare.”

“And you got the money to pay for it?” Watto asked, disbelieving, “Ehh, you don’t look like a racer.”

“Maybe I don’t.” Ahsoka placed her hands on her hips, and Anakin - who’d been hiding in the threshold between shop and storage, waiting for his cue - stepped out, gasped, and all but ran to her side.

She smirked up at him, his over-the-top, convincingly excited face and said, “But someone recognizes who I am.”

“Oh, no way-!” Anakin said, “You... you’re Ashla. _The_ Ashla.”

“The what?” Asked Watto, looking between them curiously.

“Ashla, the famous pod-racer.” Anakin informed, eyes comically wide, “The winner of the Karlon Classic, the Yevlo Classic, the Seren Cheu Classic, the-“

“I get it.” Watto waved Anakin off, “Go back to work.”

Anakin did so, albeit reluctantly. When he was out of Watto’s line of sight, he gave Ahsoka a reassuring smile. _Stick to the plan_ , he mouthed, _don’t screw it up_.

“You’re famous, eh?” Watto asked, “Pardon my not knowing you. I don’t keep up with pod-racing as much as little Ani does.”

“Shame.” Ahsoka intoned, “So, the pod?”

“I have it.” Watto conceded, “Though, considering you’re a hot-shot pod-racer, I’m wondering why you don’t already posses such a craft?”

Ahsoka halted, panicked. Her thought track short circuited. Luckily, Anakin realized she hadn’t anticipated having to improvise. He stepped forward, spoke up,

“Ashla never drives the same pod twice, Master.” Anakin ducked his head at Watto’s glare.

“It’s true.” Ahsoka spoke up once more, relieved that he’d stepped in, “I can win flying anything. And I never buy my crafts, either. My reputation’s never required it.”

“Quite the _proud_ idol you’ve got, Ani.” Watto said, shaking his head, “No money, no business.”

“But there will be money.” Ahsoka assured, struggling to keep the desperation out of her voice. If she failed now, it was all over. “Once I win the race, we’ll split the earnings.”

Watto shook his head again, seemed ready to dismiss her. Ahsoka despaired, but then Anakin saved her neck one more time.

“Master, Ashla’s _never_ lost a race.”

Watto wasn’t easily influenced. Anakin had told Ahsoka so the night before when they’d gone over their plan. But, like anyone, he had weaknesses, could be deceived.

“Hmm.” Watto considered her, rubbing his chin. His wings beat hurriedly against his back, keeping him afloat as he contemplated the offer.

“You think she can beat Sebulba?” Watto conferred with Anakin. Anakin pretended to think it over, then nodded his head in the affirmative.

“If she loses,” Watto poked Anakin’s chest with a single finger, but Anakin stood upright, unable to be moved or intimated, “Then it’s on you.”

Ahsoka let out the breath she hadn’t know she’d been holding. _It’d worked_. She could feel Watto’s mood shifting to something resembling _agreement_. Somehow, it’d actually _worked_.

“Here is my offer.” Watto said, sticking out a hand. “You’ll have the pod, and you’ll pay the entry-fee as well as any repairs the pod might need.”

“Deal.” Ahsoka shook his hand quickly, “Now, take me to see my racer.”

Watto flew ahead, gesturing her to follow. Ahsoka turned to look back at Anakin as they went.

He gave her a tight smile tinged with sadness and worry.

It dampened the confidence she’d felt from before, and gave her a bad feeling about the situation she was about to embark upon.

* * *

Cad Bane strolled through Jabba the Hutt’s palace, paying his respects to the Hutt who nodded a greeting in turn as he passed by the throne room and into a booth near the smoky shadows. There, he found the Rodian Greedo who’d tipped him off one rotation ago, an entire standard week since his meeting with Latrans.

“Welcome to Mos Eisley.” The Rodian greeted when Bane took his seat. He snapped at one of the servants, who brought them a round of drinks. Greedo took a swig from his cup. Bane let his remain where it sat.

“So, dis Togruta you spotted,” Bane began, “You said she goes by the name Ashla.”

“Yes.” Greedo started hastily, “But her markings fit the description you gave. She’s been taking a pod out in the desert every few afternoons, always sporadically. She hasn’t any routine.”

“Throwing off dose Tuskens.” Bane deduced.

“And throwing off my spies.” Greedo added, “She’s been thorough. I haven’t been able to tell where she’s staying, but I have a hunch.”

“And what’s dat?”

“In a shop in Mos Espa. It belongs to a repurposer named Watto, a Toydarian.”

“I take it this Watto doesn’t know any of dis?”

“No,” Greedo confirmed, “I highly doubt it. Skywalker, his slave, is most likely the one harboring her.”

“Interesting.” Bane murmured, deciphering that, “Whatever for?”

“No idea. They didn’t seem to know each other.”

Cad Bane sat back, mulling that over. When he spoke again, it was to say, “Tell me everything you know about dis Skywalker.”

“He’s been a slave since birth, I believe.” Greedo began, “An off-worlder tried to buy him once, bet on him winning the Boonta-Eve Classic. Watto agreed to the bet, and he lost Skywalker. Though I think some cheating was involved, somehow... Anyway, he was set to leave Tatooine. But for whatever reason he stayed, and Watto took him back. He’s... got abilities, like one of those Jedi. He’s used them before on people, when Watto sends him out to collect money.”

He added, pithily, “Or just for fun.”

“What’s a Jedi without his lightsaber?” Bane laughed derisively, “Certainly not an adversary. Still, dis is interesting information. _A Force sensitive slave_.”

Bane thought, _It doesn’t make sense for da girl to have stayed here. There must be a reason she’s entered herself in da race. There must be a reason Latrans wants her back so badly... and Force sensitives tend to seek each other out..._

“Thanks for the information.” Bane grabbed the brim of his hat, tipped it down. Greedo watched him a moment before he slapped the surface of the table with his palm, making the drinks wobble-

“Hey, don’t I get a cut? For helping you out?”

“ _You’ll get your share_.” Bane reprimanded. “But first, I gotta get da little lady back to her caretaker. Meet me in Mos Espa by sunsets time.”

And with that, he threw a few credits onto the table and vanished.

* * *

On the leader boards, her name was Ashla. And, Ahsoka begrudgingly admitted to herself, Anakin was better at keeping up the charade than she was.

“You’ve got to respond to that name if you want anyone to believe it.” Anakin said one night after they’d left the stadium. They’d had a test run through what Anakin believed was a safer venue of canyons. A few had gathered to watch, some of them Anakin’s friends - Kitster, a slave by the name of Wald - and a few who weren’t, but who didn’t cause trouble, so Ahsoka payed them no mind. Still, she’d noticed Anakin giving them the side eye every once in a while.

“Who were those people?” She asked from where they sat together on the floor of his bedroom, eating from the same bowl of bland soup, intermittently tearing pieces of bread from a loaf Anakin had bought in the market. She kept her voice low, ever cautious of Watto. Though she sensed the Toydarian suspicious of nothing - and though he rarely if ever ventured this far back in his shop - she didn’t want him to hear her.

Anakin risked a lot by letting her stay.

“I’m not sure.” Anakin said, looking troubled, “Something seemed... off. But they didn’t do anything. They just... wanted to watch you practice, I guess.”

“And that’s normal?”

“It’s not _not_ normal. Some people just enjoy pod-racing. They could’ve been spies though, maybe for Sebulba. He’s a sore loser and is always looking for a way to sabotage his opponents.”

”We’ll be careful, then.” Ahsoka ebbed what remained of her confidence his way. Anakin felt it, if the surprise that flickered across his face was any indication.

“You really think this will work?” He asked.

“I do.” Ahsoka nodded, “I just need a few more practice runs and I’ll be set.”

* * *

The line was holding, waiting to be received. Bane stood in the seedy shadows of a local Mos Espa cantina, watching the Toydarian Watoo gamble away his earnings.

“Bane.” Latrans sounded surprised. Her face puzzled through the blue distortion, “It’s been one standard week since we last spoke. What have you found?”

Bane shrugged, nonchalant. He glanced off to the side and smirked.

“Quite a bit more dan you, I’m sure.”

Latrans let out a long, relieved breath.

“Good.” She said, “Tell me, and we can-“

“ _We_ can do nothing.” Bane cut her off, “You hired me for dis job. _You’re_ paying _me_. You want results? Den I’ll do things my way.”

“You’re testing my patience, Bane.” Latrans glowered. “If you cross me, so help me, I’ll-“

“What?” He interrupted her again, “You’ll _what_? You think you got me fooled. You think you got da whole universe fooled. No... I know you don’t amount to half of what your reputation would have people believe. You would be nothing without dat little girl you want back so badly.”

Latrans inhaled and exhaled rapidly through her nose, attempting to relieve her growing irritation before she asked, lowly,

“Are you going to take her from me?”

Bane couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ve got neither da time nor da patience for child rearing. Besides, I work alone.”

“Then what?” Latrans asked, knowing she was helpless without his involvement. She’d have to meet his demands, whatever they were.

“I just need to know dat I’m not gonna be double crossed again.”

“Bane, I’m in your debt.” Latrans rolled her eyes, crossed her arms. Voice honeyed, “Why would I try to pull something when I’ve already wired half of what I’ve offered?”

“Dat’s another thing.” Bane inclined his head. “I’ll need more money.”

Exasperated, “Whatever for, might I ask?”

“A weapon lethal enough to stop a high speed craft.”

“Remember that I want her _alive_ , Bane.”

“And you’ll have her.” Bane assured, “In three standard days, I’ll send you da coordinates.”

He ended the connection before she could object, and strode out of the cantina and into the street. Greedo waited by the entrance, approached when he caught sight of Bane.

“The Tusken raiders aren’t the most agreeing people.” Greedo said, “Setting up on their turf could be costly.”

“Hmm.” Bane began, sneer just barely visible beneath the brim of his hat, “Then, we’ll just have to make ‘em an offer dey can’t refuse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next update, we go pod racing :)


	4. irrevocable pt. I

Ahsoka sat beside Anakin on his bed the night before the race, neither of them yet able to sleep. While she gazed at the stars through his slatted window, deciphering which ones were constellations, he went through a clip of holo-files.

“Who’s Queen Amidala?” Ahsoka wondered aloud. Anakin stilled, dropped one of the memory sticks onto the floor.

“ _How_ do you know that name?”

Ahsoka sighed, turned to face him and said, “I’ve been living here for a while. Maybe let’s stop pretending I didn’t go through your things.”

Anakin frowned at her, but she sensed he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Instead, he quietly relented,

“Queen Amidala of Naboo. I met her at the same time I met Qui-Gon. She was the reason he’d been in such a hurry to leave. He was protecting her on her journey to Coruscant. Her homeworld was suffering through a blockade, and the Republic wasn’t doing anything to help.”

“The Republic?”

“The mid-rim and core worlds’ government. Well, since the last time I heard, anyway... you really didn’t know?”

Ahsoka shook her head, drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.

“I realize now how sheltered Latrans kept me.”

“The one you ran from?” Anakin murmured.

Ahsoka nodded.

“I’d always known, in the back of my mind, that my situation with Latrans wasn’t... normal. I suspect I was taken from my people. What memories I have of them are fond and full of light.”

Ahsoka smiled.

“There’s one individual who stood out among the rest. Their features are obscured in my memory, but... I think that if I were to meet them again, I’d know them instantly.”

Lost in those memories as she was, those feelings she’d carried for so long, Ahsoka failed to notice Anakin’s fond expression. As she’d felt his sorrow that night by the fire, he now felt her melancholy, her nostalgia.

“That’s how I feel about Padmé... I mean, um, Queen Amidala. That’d I’d... recognize her, even after all this... time.”

He cleared his throat. His face burned bright red. Ahsoka laughed softly at his embarrassment.

“Woah.” Ahsoka eyes widened as the feelings translated. “That’s something completely different than what I’d felt. Do you... oh, you _definitely_ do.”

Ahsoka covered her mouth with her hand, unable to contain her laughter, “You _like_ her.”

If possible, Anakin’s face became even redder.

“Please,” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Let’s not discuss this.”

“Yeesh.” Ahsoka cackled, “You’ve got it bad.”

Anakin pouted, which only made Ahsoka laugh harder.

“Well... I guess that answered my question. Now, I’m only wondering... what happened to her? Your holos say she returned to Naboo, that she united her people with that of the indigenous people. But after that, no more holos.”

“The Gungans.” Anakin supplied, “I met one of them, too. His name was Jar-Jar. And, as for what happened to Padmé, it’s the same as with Qui-Gon - I don’t know. Kitster was supplying me the news discs, but they suddenly stopped broadcasting one day. He couldn’t find any more information on her after that...”

He frowned, continued, “What I remember from before is that Qui-Gon had taken me back to Padmé’s ship. He’d explained the situation to me regarding the mission on the way, and I’d briefly met everyone - including Qui-Gon’s apprentice, a man named Obi-Wan - but... after the Zabrack attacked, Padmé and Obi-Wan didn’t think it was safe for me. They told Qui-Gon it was too dangerous for me to come along. I tried to convince them otherwise, but Qui-Gon had agreed. And they’d left me behind.

But, he’d _promised_ they’d come back for me.”

Ahsoka bit her lip uncertainly, hand reaching abortedly toward him. She remembered how he’d flinched away from her the last time. Reluctantly, she let her hand drop.

“I think... he’d meant it.” Ahsoka said after careful consideration of all he’d confessed. “The feelings you give off when you discuss them, or even think about them... I can tell they were good to you.”

Anakin said, “You, too. Whenever you talk about Latrans, I can feel how you feel about her, that she wasn’t trustworthy, that she... _hurt_ you. But when you mentioned the one who only gave you feelings of warmth and light... I could _feel_ that warmth, could _see_ that light.”

Anakin looked at her imploringly.

“They were someone worth trusting.”

The smile was involuntary, just lifted up the sides of her lips.

“ _Finally_ ,” She huffed, eyes closing, “Some encouragement. Is this your way of admitting that you trust me?”

“Well, thanks for not making it a _thing,_ Snips _.”_

“No problem, Skyguy.” She said easily, nodding off, “And, I trust you, too.”

* * *

She was woken by his thrashing.

They were where they were when she’d fallen asleep, except now with her head on his shoulder and his shoulders shaking from another terror.

“Anakin.” She started, still groggy. She reached up, tried to shake him out of whatever made him toss and turn, “ _Anakin_ , wake up!”

His eyes snapped open, he inhaled sharply...

“Ahsoka.” He rasped, _gulped_ , rasped again, “ _Snips_...”

“I’m here.” She said, fully awake now, sitting up. She put her hand on his forehead.

“What are you doing?” He asked, panic fading.

“What... it’s what you did for me, that first day...”

Anakin found it in himself to chuckle weakly.

“That’s because you had a fever.” He said, “Not because you were having bad dreams.”

“Oh.” Ahsoka said, retracting her hand. Too curious to be embarrassed at her mistake, she asked, “What did you dream about?”

Anakin said nothing.

“Was it...” Ahsoka ventured slowly, “About your mother?”

Anakin’s frightened eyes snapped her way.

“How did you...?”

“That first night,” Ahsoka whispered, “You cried out for her.”

Anakin leaned forward on the bed, dropped his head in his hands. Chest heaving, he took in several deep lungfuls of air before confessing,

“Yes. It’s about my mother.”

Ahsoka waited. Minutes passed them by before Anakin said, choked,

“I dream of her death.”

He lowered his head, gripped his hair with whitening knuckles.

“I feel as if it’s some type of warning, but... I don’t _understand_.”

He turned to face Ahsoka. There were no tears in his eyes, yet - only a glistening desperation.

“She died years ago. She was the one who used the device. And it killed her. I... _I_ killed her.”

“No.” Ahsoka shook her head vehemently, “Anakin, _don’t_ believe that.”

“I’d just completed making it. The device.” Anakin went on, ignoring her denial, ”Watto had sent me on a delivery. When I got back... she was gone, and Watto had the device in his hands. He’d told me that my mother had used it, and that it had...”

He gasped, and a single tear cascaded down his drawn features.

“It had set off her tracker. She’d _died._ Instantly.”

Ahsoka sucked in a breath. She placed her palm atop his shoulder.

This time, he didn’t shrug her away.

“I’d warned her not to test it.” Anakin sobbed, “That I’d wanted to work on it more. But she’d said, _If you never try it, it will never work_... she’d had so much faith in me, and it was misplaced.”

Ahsoka understood then why Anakin was so careful to trust, to accept the trust others placed in him. Because of one mistake that had cost him his mother. Ahsoka’s eye-markings knit upward. She shared in his misery, the emotions so strong they seemed to cascade off him and onto her in waves.

“Anakin...” She tried.

“You don’t have to say anything, Snips.” He sniffed, used the back of one of his hands to wipe at his face.

“Let’s just...” He sounded exhausted, weighed down by years of grief, “Let’s just get some rest. Tomorrow’s the race. You need to be well rested.”

When Ahsoka opened her mouth to protest he added, pleadingly,

“ _Please_.”

Ahsoka did not argue, then. Not even when he slipped off the bed and onto the floor to sleep, turning his back to her. Instead, she wordlessly draped his blanket over his frame, hoping once more that it comforted where she could not.

* * *

The next morning brought anticipation.

And _nerves_.

Anakin was her pit-crew, and he guarded his pod like a wild Nexu, prowling around it to keep others from getting too close. Especially Sebulba, who sneered from where he ran last minute prep on his own pod. Ahsoka thought Anakin too paranoid, too wound up. But ever since the night, she couldn’t blame him. Having prophetic dreams about someone who’d already passed had to be stressful.

Still... she couldn’t help but think something about Anakin’s story regarding his mother hadn’t added up.

Ahsoka shook her head. _Focus. There will be time to contemplate that after the race._

“You ready, Snips?” Anakin asked when the flaggers filed single file onto the starting line. Heavy bags framed his blue eyes, and exhaustion bore him down. But the frame of his jaw was determined, the line of his brow steel.

He even managed to crack a playful smile at her as she slotted herself into the pod’s seat.

“Eat my dust, Sebulba.” She said, starting the engines, and Anakin barked a laugh.

“Remember,” He reminded around his laughter, helping her secure his old helmet around her head. He’d remodeled it to fit around her montrals. “The Tusken Raiders are the ones to look out for. They’ll try to shoot you down before you reach the finish line. Concentrate on the moment. Feel, don’t think. Use your instincts.”

Ahsoka flipped the goggles down on the helmet.

“I will.” She smirked.

“I’m going now.” Anakin walked backwards as he continued, “And I believe in you, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened marginally. Instinctually, she’d already known. But hearing him say it...

She revved the engines.

“Don’t get sappy on me now, _Skyguy_.”

“I know you’re secretly touched!”

And then he was gone, coalesced in with the crowds. Ahsoka idled in line, keeping her concentration on the moment like Anakin had instructed. The announcer said something in Huttese, then Standard. A gong sounded-

Ahsoka pushed forward with the handles...

... flew back against the seat.

Roars chased her away from the stadiums.

The first lap whipped by in a blur. Three of the racers around her tumbled and crashed, either because of their own follies or because of the blaster bolts slipping out of the sky. For a moment, Ahsoka was distracted by the onslaught of them, looked up the canyon walls for signs of adversaries, but the suns were too bright, blinded her view...

_Stay focused_ , she reminded herself. _Two more laps to go._

Several were still ahead of her. She pushed the engines, slipped past a few on the second lap. Back in the canyons, a blaster bolt skimmed the left side of the pod. She cursed, steering swaying, but soon righted herself.

_Hope Anakin didn’t see that_ , she thought.

Two ahead of her.

“ _One of tricks I pulled_ ,” Anakin had told her that morning, “ _Was a quick control thrust. My pod shot toward the sky, and I pulled it down ahead of the others_.”

_Okay_ , Ahsoka thought, looking for ramps she could propel herself off of. She spotted one coming out of the canyons, determined to use it on the third lap.

Sebulba was in the lead.

The third lap...

Ahsoka breathed in slowly, summoning what Latrans had always forced her to in dire circumstances. The Force surged around her, helping her steer her way toward victory.

She exhaled, yanked back the throttles...

_Zipped_ up the ramp.

For a moment, she was airborne, the blue sky all encompassing...

The warning in the Force came too late.

Something _yanked_ , the hull pierced. Alarms blared, the pod’s screens flashed warnings, read _engine failure_...

Ahsoka toggled the control switch, but it was no use.

She spiraled toward the surface...

_Impacted_ -

And then all was absence.


	5. irrevocable pt. II

“Don’t get sappy on my now, _Skyguy._ ”

“I know you’re secretly touched!”

Ahsoka kept her eyes ahead, kept her hands curled around the steering. Her face was a carefully constructed neutralness, but in the Force, she radiated. Anakin gave pause. How could his words have inspired such a reaction? A giddiness he hadn’t harbored since childhood took sudden root within him, rapidly bloomed...

He felt inexplicably lighter than he had in years. 

So, when the unfounded dread weeded it’s way in not moments later, he chose to forcefully ignore it.

On the sidelines, Anakin perched himself atop a stack of crates. The pod-racers radiated anticipation, and their adrenaline was infectious. When they took off, it was with neck-breaking speeds. Kitster arrived moments later, offering him a live-feeder. Together, they watched as Ahsoka weaved her way ever towards the lead.

“She’s incredibly skilled.” Kitster commented, rapt attention.

Anakin smiled without realizing.

“She told me she was good at flying. I should have listened sooner.”

The announcers’ commentary fed the crowds.

“ _Sebulba’s in the lead, but late-comer Ashla is rocketing her way to number one. Will she best all-time champ Sebulba_?”

“ _All-time_.” Anakin huffed indignantly, voice raising, “Except for that one time _Anakin Skywalker_ beat him!”

“Forever my humblest friend.” Kitster said sarcastically, laughing at Anakin’s pointed glare. The pod crafts whipped past on the second lap. Kitster pointed to the screen between them a moment later. “Let’s focus on the race. Look, Ahsoka’s in third place, now.”

Anakin felt a swell of pride. But no sooner had he returned his attention to the live-feeder did a blaster skim the side of her pod.

“ _Better watch out for those Tusken Raiders_.” One of the announcers said.

“ _Seems to be a lot of snipers camped out in the Dune canyons today._ ” The other added in Huttese.

Anakin’s gut twisted. Again, that dread came to him.

Again, he attempted to ignore it.

_Shake that one off, Snips._

“You warned Ahsoka, yes?” Kitster asked, glancing away from the screen to Anakin’s face, seeing the worry writ large there.

“I did.” Anakin said absently, suddenly distracted by a hunch, a feeling. He sucked in a breath-

But Ahsoka zoomed past, embarking on the third and final lap. She was okay. He let the breath go. It didn’t matter to him if she won. So long as she was okay.

So long as she evaded whatever had him so on edge.

Unfocused by his unmooring, Anakin could no longer concentrate on the race. It wasn’t until Kitster gasped, nudged him and urged, _“Look!”_ did Anakin bring himself back into the moment. His eyes refocused on the screen in time to witness Ahsoka ram her way up a steep canyon’s incline. Propelled, she soared...

The hairs on the back of his arms and neck rose. Sweat trickled down the slope of his forehead...

Victory seemed within her grasp now.

So then why did Anakin’s heart clench?

He felt it coming before his eyes caught it. The sniper’s shot, right through the hull, barely missing her arm, and then through the left engine.

“Oh, _no._ ” Kitster covered his mouth, horrified.

Ahsoka _slammed_ into the sand, engines exploding in a ball of flame.

“ _Ooh_ ,” One of the announcers cheered, “ _What a hit. Look’s like little Ashla’s been taken out of the race, and possibly life itself!_ ”

The crowds _roared_.

Anakin dropped the live-feeder. It landed with a thud against the sand.

“Anakin-!” Kitster warned, but he was already running for the lot of speeders, ready to hotwire one, ready to take off toward the edge of the canyons...

Kitster grabbed him before he ever reached there, stopping him before he could.

“You’ll die!” His friend tried to reason.

“ _Ahsoka_ will die!” Anakin cried, yanking himself loose, “I won’t leave her alone!”

“That’s why I will go.” Kitster said, “And you will stay.”

And before Anakin could protest, Kitster was gone, running at top speed toward the lot. Something fell from his person in his rush, and he failed to notice. Reeling, Anakin walked toward it, picked it up...

Realized that it was his locater device.

Swiftly, Anakin pocketed it, then let his feet carry him up through the stadiums. He dodged and evaded everyone who entered his path, using the Force to propel his movements, never stopping until he reached Watto’s private viewing area.

“You’ve got _a lot_ of explaining to do.” Watto fumed after Anakin burst in, flapping in front of his face. His friends sat around, yelling and arguing over their losses. “You just cost me more money than you could _ever_ imagine.”

“Master.” Anakin said, out of breath, “Please, let me go help her.”

“ _Help her?_ ” Watto guffawed, “Did you see the condition of that pod? She’s as good as dead, if she isn’t already! And if she isn’t dead, I ought to have her killed myself for spewing such heresy. Pah! You, too! ’ _Famous pod-racer, never lost a race.’_ Who do you think you are, coming in here and asking me for favors after what you pulled? You’ve no _idea_ the world of trouble you’re in!”

“ _Please_.” Anakin fell to his knees. He’d never begged for anything in his life, not from Watto - but he’d beg for this. Around him, Watto’s friends laughed mockingly. Someone spit. It hit the side of Anakin’s face.

“Deactivate my tracker.” He entreated, “Just this once. I won’t run away, just please let me _help her._ ”

Watto sighed, shook his head, turned his back...

“Get out of my sight.” His voice was a fist. His voice was every indignity Anakin had ever faced, every injustice. “I don’t want to see you again for another month. _That’s_ how angry I am.”

Anakin blinked, staggered-

Watto suddenly stilled, entire body growing taught like a pulled string.

Anakin didn’t register the way his fist closed around nothing until Watto, turning to face him against his will, reached for his neck...

He gasped for air being denied.

“And this,” Anakin seethed, rising to his feet, “Is how angry _I_ am.”

Around him, Watto’s friends grew quiet. One-by-one, and then simultaneously, they jumped up and scattered, fleeing from the room on scrabbling feet.

“I’m not asking permission anymore.” Anakin grit, resolve sharpening like a blades edge. Watto kicked weakly out, struggling to get away. _You’ve wanted to do this your whole life_ , that voice that sometimes came to him whispered, croaky and menacing, a grate not on his ears but his consciousness, _you’ve_ _waited_ _for this moment, your whole life. It_ _will_ _be the utmost satisfying sensation, feeling the life leave his body. Do it. Kill him._

Anakin closed his eyes, exhaled, and loosened his grip the tiniest fraction. Watto gasped down what air he could, but remained within his hold.

“ _You_... _can’t kill_... _me_.” Watto choked, pawing at his phantom hand pathetically, “ _I’m_... _the only one_... _who knows_... _where... your mother is.”_

Anakin shuddered. He opened his eyes, flexed his fingers. Watto fell to the floor, coughed uncontrollably-

“My mother’s alive.” Anakin realized, sensing the truth, and hating himself for not having realized it sooner. “You’d told me she’d died. _You lied to me!_ Tell me where she is. _Now_!”

Anakin stepped forward threateningly-

“You’re right!” Watto wheezed, cowering away, “I did lie to you. That day, after I sent you out, your mother never showed up for work. I looked for her transmitter with the scopes and couldn’t find her anywhere. I went to your house and found she’d used your little device. She’d found her locater and deactivated it before cutting it out of her skin.”

” _What did you do to her?_ ”

“I... I sold her. I had some debts to pay off anyway, and a man named Lars had stopped by several times, asking for her. He’d offered me quite a bit of money.”

Anakin’s fists clenched at his sides.

” _Where_?” He hissed, “ _Where are they?_ ”

”In the desert...” Watto heaved, “He’s a moisture farmer, if I remember-”

”That was my _mother_.” Anakin couldn’t stem the tears that suddenly flowed, relieved that she wasn’t truly gone, but worried all the same about his dreams. “You... how could you _do_ that?”

“I won you and your mother in a fair gamble!” Watto spat, “I treated you better than Gardulla ever would have, and still you defied me. Building a device to set yourself free... how could _you_ do _that_?”

Anakin took a step backward, clarity cresting down upon him like the light from the twin suns.

“It worked, then.” He whispered numbly. 

Watto frowned. 

“ _What_?”

”My mom used it,” Anakin said to himself. In a daze, he procured the deactivator he’d pocketed - same as the original, designed around perceived flaws, but capable of carrying out the desired effect. “And it didn’t kill her. It’d located the chip...”

Watto said something, but Anakin didn’t listen. Instead, breathing deeply, he activated the device. Hands shaking, he moved it around his body until-

_Beep_. There, in his right forearm. A little, flat square briefly glowed beneath his skin before sizzling out. It _stinged_.

Anakin had never readily welcomed pain so openly before.

“ _How dare you!_ ” Watto cried, rising up. He flew at Anakin-

Who shoved him down using the Force, and Watto dropped like a fly, falling unconscious. Looking around the tables full of half-finished foods and utensils, Anakin searched for a blade. Beside one of the plates he found what he’d been looking for; a knife, dulled and blunt - but with enough force it sliced through his skin easily. With the tip, he pried out the transmitter. His blood spilling, he crushed the only thing that had been tying him to Tatooine for the last few years beneath the heel of his boot.

He allowed himself one moment to stay. To say, breathless,

“I’m _free_.”

To believe it was real, because it was. Because he’d spoken it into existence.

Because it was, irrevocably, the truth.

He pocketed the locater, was gone again, racing through the door and through the stadiums right as Sebulba crossed the finished line. The crowd cheered their winner’s name, but they weren’t enough to drown out Anakin’s belated, frenzied laughter. 

Once in the lot, Anakin grabbed the first speeder-bike he could find, hopped atop its seat. Making quick work of the wires, he sprung the engine to life. Quickly, he sped toward the horizon...

_Hang on, Ahsoka_ , he breathed between the distance of their minds, hoping more than anything that she _would_. In the distance, against the backdrop of the high suns, he watched smoke curl toward the sky. Turning, he flew toward it at top speed.

_I’ll be there soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we aren’t in the clear yet, but one thing is for certain...
> 
> anakin is free, it’s irrevocable :)


	6. stand-off

Ahsoka woke to heavy smoke that permeated all, filling her lungs and irritating her eyes. Through the smog that blurred her vision, she spotted the binary suns glowing red. They seemed to peer down at her like a pair of eyes, scrutinizing her poor state.

Then, inexplicably, they _blinked_.

_Actual eyes, then,_ Ahsoka registered, coughing against the fumes. The eyes became an outline, a body blocking out the actual suns’ light. Hands reached down to her, lifting her up and out of the pod beneath her arms.

“Anakin...?” She asked weakly, though she knew instinctively that they were not.

“‘Fraid not, little lady.” Came a chilling voice, confirming her suspicions. Ahsoka shivered involuntarily. The hands dragged her through the sand, away from the wreckage, deposited her some meters from the fire. She winced as she tried to stand-

A booted foot pushed her back down. Ahsoka sprawled, the air rushing from her lungs...

“I don’t want to be cruel.” The man said - a Duro, she then saw. “You’ve actually been a great help to me.”

He bent down, reached around his belt, procured an injector.

Ahsoka scrabbled away, but he lashed out, grabbed her before she could flee and injected its contents into her arm.

Almost instantly, her body began to numb.

“What did you do to me?” She gasped, struggling to form her mouth around the words.

“Medicinal agent.” The Duro said, “Helps wit’ da hurts, and ensures you don’t run away. Now quiet, I’ve got to make a call.”

He turned away from her. Ahsoka caught sight of a long range sniper rifle slung around his back. _He was the one who shot me down_ , she ascertained. Ahsoka let her head slump back against the sand, puzzled by it. _Why_?

“Latrans,” He spoke into a wrist comm., “Come in. I’m sending you da coordinates.”

_Well, that answered_ that _question._

Disappointment coursed through Ahsoka, disappointment in herself. Not because she’d been recaptured, but because she’d failed Anakin and the others. Too late, she realized what that could mean for him. Watto had threatened dire consequences if Ahsoka couldn’t live up to Ashla’s reputation. No doubt, the Toydarian had gambled everything on her winning. Her losing meant he’d undoubtedly lost everything.

What would happen to Anakin now?

_I’m so sorry,_ she breathed between the distance of their minds, wondering if it would reach him from such a distance. _Don’t be foolish. Don’t come after me_.

“Excellent job, Bane.” Latrans voice came through the comm. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Bane ended the call, turned once more to face her. Ahsoka attempted to call upon the Force, but her control was as hard to summon as her limbs and digits. With nothing to channel the energy through, she knew not how to repel her assailant.

The man - Bane - drew in close, looking her over. She watched him warily.

“She must’ve picked you up sometime after our mission on Mandalore.” Bane said, gaze considering. He moved his hand as if to caress her lekku-

Ahsoka summoned enough control to jerk her head away. Bane smirked, grabbed a pair of energy-binders from his belt and shackled her wrists together.

“I’m not your enemy here, little lady.” Bane said, standing once more.

“Actually,” he laughed ironically, “I’m kind of indebted to you. If you hadn’t run off, your master never would’ve contacted me, and I never would’ve been able to take revenge as I’m about to do.”

Bane hauled her up, slung her over his shoulder. Ahsoka grunted, knocked against his back. She didn’t spend time deciphering his words, knowing their meaning most likely meant her doom regardless. Instead, she grappled for some semblance of calm. She fought to make her hand a fist, to punch at her assailant, kick or bite. But her body wouldn’t respond, just limply swayed with every step he took.

Turning her head as best she could, she gazed back toward the destroyed pod-racer. It was nothing but scrapped parts, now. There wouldn’t be anything to salvage.

But someone was speeding toward it, regardless.

Ahsoka squinted, trying to get a better look as they neared...

... and blew right past the downed craft, gunning for their direction.

Bane heard the screech of the speeder, whipped around-

“Ahsoka!” Came a voice, and the speeder drew to a halt. Ahsoka tensed, watched as Bane used his free hand to draw a blaster-

“Kitster!” She urged, voice strained, “Stop, go back!”

“Listen to her.” Bane encouraged, gesturing with his blaster. Ahsoka couldn’t see Kitster, knew not if he listened. “Get back on your speeder and go.”

“What are you doing with her?” Kitster asked, “Ahsoka, are you alright?”

“Kitster,” Ahsoka pleaded, “Go back. Don’t get hurt because of me.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Kitster said, and then the sound of another blaster was charging up, and Bane was tensing, shifting his feet into a defensive stance.

“But you don’t sound alright.” Kitster concluded. Ahsoka silently cursed.

“I’m feeling generous today, boy.” Bane said, “I’ll give you one last chance to leave.”

“I’m not letting you take her.” Kitster said, voice shaking - but only a little. Ahsoka internally applauded his courage, but wished he would leave so he wouldn’t be hurt in whatever skirmish was upon them.

“And _I’m_ not letting _you_ take _her_.”

Ahsoka’s heart _leapt_ into her throat. She looked up...

Latrans stood directly behind Bane, twin blasters drawn, one aimed at Bane...

... the other aimed at Kitster.

“You’ve been a _very_ naughty girl, Ahsoka.” Latrans said when their eyes met, smile all snarl.

“Latrans.” Bane greeted, shoving Ahsoka off his shoulder, procuring a second blaster as she hit the ground and rolled away. He aimed at Latrans, kept the other blaster pointed at Kitster.

Ahsoka gazed between the three - Latrans and Bane, arms steady, and Kitster... sweating, blaster held between shaking palms, moving back and forth between the two.

It was a stand-off, and Ahsoka knew who’d be the first to fall if she didn’t intervene.

“What’s with da hostility, sweetheart?” Bane asked mockingly, “Don’t trust me?”

“Of course not.” Latrans’ smile transformed into something sickly sweet, “You accepted my offer too easily. I know you probably want to kill me. I only came prepared.”

“I’m more interested in getting payed than killing you.” Bane corrected. Ahsoka sensed it was... _mostly_ true. That meant he was a bounty hunter. Latrans had hired him to find her. And, for some reason unknown to her, he wanted Latrans dead.

“Then lower your blasters.” Latrans motioned to Kitster, “The both of you.”

“He’s not wit’ me.” Bane said, never taking his eyes off of Latrans. “Seems he’s come for the same thing as you, though.”

Latrans gazed between Ahsoka and Kitster, who stood his ground despite his palpable fear.

“I see.” Latrans said, cocking her blaster-

Ahsoka grit her teeth, kicked out as hard as she could-

Bane grimaced, caught off guard by her blow to his shin. His reflexes reacted, and the blaster he’d had aimed at Latrans fired. The bolt clipped her shoulder. She didn’t buckle, but she did sway. When the initial shock and pain wore off, she snarled at Bane, started firing. He rolled through the sand, quick on his feet as he evaded her blaster fire. They began to fight, firing at one another, dodging and evading each other’s shots. Kitster used the distraction to approach.

“Ahsoka,” He asked, bewildered, “What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain now. I’m not sure I really know, myself. But thank you for coming after me.”

He nodded, “Let’s get out of here. Can you walk?”

“No. I can barely talk. The Duro injected me with something. I can’t feel anything.”

“Okay,” Kitster nodded, taking that in. He sheathed his blaster, slipped his hands under her shoulders and knees and lifted. Her head lolled, and he repositioned her as the two bounty hunters fought.

“Let’s get out of here while they’re still distracted.”

“Good idea.” Ahsoka agreed. “Where’s Anakin?”

“I made him stay.” Kitster said, running back toward his speeder.

“Thank you.” Ahsoka breathed a sigh of relief, “I don’t want him to-”

Blaster fire sizzled around them, hit the speeder almost within their grasp-

Pierced its engine, sent fuel spewing...

Ahsoka looked over her shoulder as Bane and Latrans continued to square off, Latrans using one blaster to fire at the Duro, the other to fire at them. Kitster jumped over the speeder, using it as a shield to separate them from the bounty hunters.

“What now?” He wondered.

“Latrans came in a ship.” Ahsoka said, “She had to. Did you pass any on your way?”

“No,” Kitster said, peering over the speeders seat, reclaiming his blaster, “But I see one out in the distance. Aurore-class freighter.”

“That’s her’s!” Ahsoka all but shouted, “How far out?”

“ _Far_.” Kitster said miserably.

Ahsoka took a deep breath, accepting her inevitable defeat.

“You did all you could.” She reassured Kitster. “We can’t make it together, and I can’t make it alone, but you can still get out of here.”

“It’s nice of you to think so.” Kitster said, serious, “But I’m not going to leave you here.”

“You don’t have a choice! Latrans will kill you.”

Kitster looked over his shoulder, eyebrows rising. The blaster fire and fight still sounded.

“Not if that bounty hunter doesn’t kill her, first... they’re moving further and further away from us. I think we could make it, if we tried.”

“Kitster...” Ahsoka thought she might cry as he scooped her up, placing her bound arms around his neck. He instructed, “Wrap your legs around me as best you can. I have a plan.”

Ahsoka did as instructed, said,

“I have a _bad_ feeling about this.”

Kitster laughed, the sound ringing...

“Don’t you know?” He asked, grabbing the inoperable speeder with his free hand. He grit his teeth, pulled. It moved slowly beneath his grip, but at least it moved. “Whenever someone says that, things always turn out okay!”

“You sound mad!” Ahsoka cried.

He laughed, a little crazily, “You have to be a little mad, to be friends with Anakin Skywalker!”

And then he was half crawling, half running through the desert, Ahsoka clinging to his back, downed speeder their only shield. For a few moments, his plan worked, but then Latrans caught sight of them, started firing. The bolts _clinged_ and _pinged_ against the bike, but it held up, just startled them every time the bolts zipped over their heads. Kitster occasionally answered Latrans blaster fire with some of his own.

“We’re close!” Ahsoka looked ahead. They were nearer Latrans’ ship now than Latrans was. The distance she’d have to put herself between Bane and them was too wide a gap. She’d never make it on foot.

“And... there!” Kitster cheered, bringing them to the entrance, “Where’s the emergency access?”

“Side of the ship. Left... left side.” Ahsoka said. Kitster ran them over, slammed his hand down on the panel. The loading ramp descended...

Latrans began firing at them in earnest. Kitster flinched, ducked down. Latrans screamed something, but if it was directed at Bane or herself, Ahsoka couldn’t tell. Neither did she care. When the ramp was halfway extended, Kitster hopped over it’s edge and hit the floor with his knees. Not missing a beat, he stumbled back to his feet and ran them to the top of the ship. He found the cockpit easily enough, Ahsoka only having to correct his way twice, and then he was depositing her into the co-pilots seat, starting up the engines...

Ahsoka kept her eyes on the vicinity monitor. Two life forms circled one another in the distance, but then one broke off, and the other didn’t pursue.

“Hurry.” Ahsoka urged, “She’s on her way.”

“I’ve never actually flown one of these before.” Kitster said, hands flying around the controls.

“What?” Ahsoka asked, “A YV-865?”

“No.” Kitster winced, “A ship.”

Ahsoka sat back, huffed, “ _Great_.”

But he got them airborne without a hitch. Ahsoka guided his flight with occasional comments and pointers, and moments later, they were in the atmosphere.

“You did it.” Ahsoka said, eyes widening as she took in Tatooine’s stars up close.

“Was there any doubt?”

“ _Yes_.”

Kitster shrugged, “Eh. I can’t even be upset. I didn’t have faith in myself, either.”

Ahsoka managed a genuine laugh and said, sincerely, “Thank you, Kitster. You just saved my life.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Kitster said, “We still aren’t in the clear.”

“You’re right.” Ahsoka said, “We left Anakin behind. We have to go back.”

“No.” Kitster shook his head. Ahsoka gaped, ready to protest, but Kitster cut in before she could, “You can’t remain on Tatooine. It’s too dangerous for you now, for many reasons. This Latrans will pursue you, for one, and Watto is undoubtedly suspicious of you after you lost the race. You need to leave, find somewhere safe.”

“I...” Ahsoka scoffed, incredulous that Kitster would even suggest such a thing, “I can’t just _leave_ Anakin.”

“I’m sorry, Ahsoka.” Kitster’s brows knit upward in sympathy, “But consider your safety, and the fact that Anakin cannot leave without his tracker being deactivated. Until it is, there’s no way you can help him.”

“But I made a promise to him!” Ahsoka said vehemently, “ _And_ a promise to you, and all the slaves, for that matter. I _can’t_ go back on that.”

“Then we’ll find a new way to keep your promise.” Kitster compromised, “But until we do, don’t return to the surface. This Latrans will learn quickly, if she doesn’t already know, that the Hutt’s control Tatooine. If or when she reports you to them, and if she has the resources to enlist their help, you’ll have the Hutt’s tracking you as well.”

Ahsoka contemplated his words. Sitting back, she shut her eyes, took a few deep breaths. _In, out. In, and out_. The longer she sat there, breathing deeply, the better she felt she was coming to a solution. Memories from the past few days resurfaced, playing in her mind like a holo-vid. Anakin was at the center of them all, the fixed point at which planets orbited. He spoke, reminding her,

_“Queen Amidala of Naboo. I met her at the same time I met Qui-Gon...”_

Ahsoka slowly opened her eyes, turned to find Kitster waiting patiently for her to respond. When she spoke, it was with a newly found calm,

“Do you know the coordinates to get to Naboo?”


	7. interlude: interim

There was a defunct speeder, signs of a scuffle, blaster marks burned into the sand...

But no sign of his friends anywhere.

Anakin grabbed his head in both hands. His brows drew up and together, creased in the middle. His eyes gazed out at the desert in distress. Something dribbled down his arm, onto his face, into the sand...

Anakin blinked, lowered his right arm...

_Blood_. Blood from where he’d cut open his flesh and tore out the transmitter. It stained his clothes, smeared his cheek, pooled at his feet...

He looked back - he’d left a _trail_. All the way from the stadiums through the Dune canyons, his blood had followed him, painting his movement through the desert.

“Thanks for da ride, kid.” Said a voice, a bit strained. Anakin turned again to find a Duro man straddle his borrowed speeder. The man - sporting a blaster wound to his side, green blood of his own oozing out - started up the engines and tipped his wide brimmed hat. He spoke once more before speeding away, “Should’ve dressed dat wound. You’ve led ‘em right to ya.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, comprehending right as the shadow of one fell over his own. He heard the familiar, spine curdling screech of the sand dweller, turned in time to see the face of the Tusken Raider, their staff held high above their head in both hands. They swung it down in an arch...

It’s end _slammed_ against the side of his head-

And then everything fell sideways.

* * *

Ahsoka laid back against the wall of the hull, felt her gut twist, thought she might be sick - only nothing came. Still, the sensation stuck. Slowly, feeling had returned to her previously numbed limbs. She flexed her now free hands, careful of the sensitivity of her wrists. Kitster had helped her unshackle herself with the aid of some of Latrans’s tools after a few slight feints with the Force proved ineffective, ending in a shock to her system every time. Now he was elsewhere, surveying the ship, exploring its inner workings.

Ahsoka got to her feet, wobbled only slightly. Bracing her hand against the wall, she used her forearm as support as she made her way through the ship, up a gangplank and toward the hall that housed her bedroom. She hit the door access, and it’s emptiness greeted her with familiarity, echoes, nightmares...

_It’s just a bedroom_ , she thought, vision blurring, chest squeezing, body shaking - and then she remembered all of the times she’d been locked inside, the lights inaccesible, no sounds, only her thoughts; always wondering when she’d be let out again. The confinement could last for days. _Those are just memories_ , she told herself, sinking to her knees in the threshold. She pressed her wrists to her eyes as her lips trembled, pulled back against her teeth to keep from crying. She hadn’t cried in years. Latrans had, seemingly, beat the ability to out of her. Or maybe she’d just eradicated the willingness to. Crying for any reason had always resulted in punishments. Even tears of pain. Latrans had also withheld food on occasion, or slipped sleeping sedatives into her meals to make her crash whenever her presence proved to be _inconveniencing_. And Ahsoka remembered not being able to do anything about it, even after she’d figured it out, because how else would she eat? Being hungry was just as bad, if not worse a pain, as being beaten. She’d come to know that the hard way.

They jumped out of hyperspace - Ahsoka felt the ship shift beneath her.

Standing and leaving her once-bedroom behind - letting her tears fall freely instead of wiping them away, or holding them back, or letting them make her feel shamed - Ahsoka made her way back to the cockpit. Through the viewport, she watched through slowly drying eyes as Naboo’s planet, a beautiful green and blue, drew ever closer.

”We’ve got a problem.” Kitster’s voice cut her out of her awe. He appeared beside her, pointed to a grey smear that, the closer they came to, she realized was less a smear and more a _ship_ \- though, it _wasn’t_ a ship, either. It was something else. Not a _moon_ , but a-

“Droid control center.” Kitster gulped, sudden nervousness radiating off of him like heat from a sun. “I heard about them on the news discs I’d been giving to Anakin.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened in recollection - she’d learned about those from the discs, as well. _The blockade_. It was still active? Even after all that time?

“ _Aurore-class freighter_.” Came a tinny voice suddenly over the communications channel, “ _Identify yourself_.”

Ahsoka and Kitster both looked at each other at the same time, expressions mirroring one another’s panic, bodies seizing...

” _Aurore-class freighter_.” It came again, “ _I repeat, identify yourself._ ”

”What do we _do_?” Ahsoka hissed.

”Um, we uh...” Kitster started to shake, palming his jacket as if it might hold the answers. He gulped, began to sweat. He reached for the controls that would relay a message...

But it was too late. Something spilled from the mouth of the control ship, came speeding their way-

Ahsoka dived for the pilots seat, grabbed the steering and shot them up-

“Take a seat, Kitster!” She grit, barely missing the sudden onslaught of blaster fire. It skimmed the tail of the ship, and she dodged the next few hits as Kitster shakily did as told. Ahsoka moved like she’d flown her whole life - because she had, because Latrans had entrusted her behind the controls on several occasions, and that’s how she’d managed to escape in the first place - and flew them through quick and fast maneuvers that would enable them to evade their attackers.

_You messed up last time, though,_ her doubt gnawed at her. She’d lost her concentration in the pod-race. Instead of focusing on the moment like Anakin had instructed, she’d started thinking of strategies to win. That’s why she’d been distracted, she knew; that’s why she’d felt the warning too late in the Force, why she’d been shot down...

But not this time. Anakin’s words came to her as she breathed deep, focused in on the assailants...

_Concentrate on the moment. Feel, don’t think. Use your instincts._

And so, closing her eyes and trusting in the Force, she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> I’m thinking of you all during this unsettling time, and hope you’re doing well. I’m unfortunately unable to offer anything but my words - I hope they bring you some semblance of happiness and respite.
> 
> Please stay safe and healthy.
> 
> Love,
> 
> selcouthinspired ♡


	8. embargo and liberation

_Ten Years Ago_

“Now, Viceroy.” Padmé said, the royal inflection lacing her words, “We will discuss a new treaty.”

Gunray hunched, cowering away from her words and the blasters aimed at his person. He whimpered, lifted his hands in slow surrender...

“You fool!” The other Nemodian shouted at him, “We have leverage against her!”

On the surface, Padmé concealed her momentary confusion. She kept her blaster aloft, steady. She was the Queen, even if the makeup was missing. She wouldn’t be intimidated by these traitors.

“You...” Gunray gulped, slowly lowering his hands, straightening his back. “You’re right!”

“Quiet, the both of you.” Captain Panaka said, nearing them. He made to arrest them...

“Explain yourselves.” Padmé ordered before her guard had made it two steps, voice only loud enough to be heard. Everyone in the room gave pause. Panaka looked at Padmé worriedly.

“There’s a mole in your ranks, Queen Amidala.” Gunray leered, “Or should I say _Naberrie_?”

Padmé stiffened. White-hot dread trickled down her spine...

“That’s right.” Gunray mocked, “We know of your family.”

“ _No_.” Padmé faltered, forgetting her voice. It reverted to that of its natural inflection. She gave Panaka a desperate look.

“My Queen.” Panaka ensured, trying to placate, “The day is won. Anything they say now is only meant to frighten you.”

“As it should!” The other Nemodian stomped, “Our droids are still operational.”

“The day is _not_ won.” Padmé comprehended, “Until that droid control ship has been dismantled.”

She spared a glance out of the floor to ceiling window that sat behind the throne. The ship was still intact, and they’d had no word from their pilots. If it was true that they had her family, then the Federation wouldn’t be holding them in a camp, where the potential of escape or rescue would chance successful. Instead, the only place they could be holding them was...

Her eyes widened. Her heart thumped once, painfully, against the cavern of her chest.

“Captain Panaka.” She whirled around, “Tell our fighters to stand down and return home. We’ve lost this battle... we’ve a traitor somewhere in our midst.”

“We’ll interview every member of palace staff.” Panaka assured, voice calm to help steady her, “We won’t let this go unpunished.”

Panaka relayed her message then, ordering the fighter-pilots to return to base.

“You won’t find your mole here.” Gunray laughed, “They are _long_ gone, now.”

Padmé frowned at his words.

“No matter.” Panaka spat, “You are our hostages, and we can make an exchange with you.”

“I wouldn’t be too hasty.” Gunray sneered, “I’ve ordered the Naberrie’s be killed in less than a rotation, if we don’t return with a signed treaty.”

Panaka’s blaster charged. He stepped forward, voice low,

“ _You’ll want to reconsider that_.”

Gunray tensed, the blaster sinking into the skin of his chest-

“ _Captain_.” Padmé barked.

Everyone turned. The Queen had regained her voice. Her face was blank, betraying nothing.

“We won’t resort to violence as the Nemodians do.” She reprimanded, “We are a sovereignty who recognizes when we’ve been defeated. We go in chains with our heads up and our backs straight.”

Padmé turned then, steps wobbly, and ascended the stairs to her throne. She sat slowly upon its cushion, let her lands rest upon the arches and, labored, continued,

“The Naberrie’s will be released at the signing of the treaty-”

“My _Queen_!” Panaka pleaded.

“-and will remain in isolated house arrest with myself and all other palace staff. We are to be granted amnesty, and you are to defer to me with all matters regarding my people - both the Nabooians and the Gungans.”

“M’lady,” Panaka approached her, “I must object-!”

“You will refrain.” Padmé cut him off, and he halted immediately.

“You aren’t in any position to negotiate now, _Highness_.” Gunray seethed.

“These are my demands.” Padmé said with finality.

“And if we don’t meet them?” The other Nemodian asked snidely.

Padmé’s eyes watered. It felt as if a vice wound its way around her chest, constricting her air flow. She’d never assumed it would be easy, governing a people - but she never could have seen it coming to _this_ , being forced to make a choice between her family and those who’d elected her into office, those who’d trusted her with their well-being. But it wasn’t a choice, not really. _This would save more lives, this decision._ Maybe not in the long run, but for the time being.

“Then you will kill me.” She said, voice barely above a whisper. She knew it was what they wanted to do, what they would have preferred. But they refrained because it meant making her a martyr. “And if you do, my people will revolt, and you will be dead before nightfall.”

Silence rang. Padmé spared Panaka one brief, apologetic glance before she turned her cold gaze back to the Nemodians. Panaka looked away. The Nemodians turned, conferred with voices low. Padmé sat rigidly upon her throne, thinking of her family. Her mother, her father, her sister... would they be alright, after this? What had happened to them? What happened to them even now? Would they ever forgive her?

Who had she trusted, and who had betrayed her?

Several answers came to mind, all of them too horrid for her to believe. Not her handmaidens - they were vetted on their loyalty, had sworn an oath to lay down their lives, if service so came to that. Not her Royal guards; they would never jeopardize Naboo by sabotaging its Queen. And more to the point - they didn’t know her maiden name, nor her family. _Amidala_ had been fabricated for political endeavors, had been employed long before her campaign, such as during her days in the legislative youth program. The only people with even the possibility of knowing her familial connections were the Royal advisors, but what would be their motives? Bringing war to Naboo? No, it wasn’t possible. They risked their lives by doing so, _more so_ than they did her own.

That left... only someone who’d known her from before her time as Queen, someone who knew her as both Naberrie and Amidala. Someone... who’d known her father during his time in the Senate. She had trailed him often during his service, had met many Senators and Representatives during his term. She’d observed much and knew that, even though Ruwee might not have been well-liked, he’d never been hated. At least, not openly.

Still, that didn’t cancel out herself. But who would she have encountered during that time, who would have gained from sabotaging either herself or Naboo, or both? Who would have remembered her, would have followed her own political path for so long? Who would have gained from revealing that information to her enemies? _What_ would they have gained?

When she realized that who and what and _why_ , she became very light headed.

“It’s a deal.” Gunray pronounced, drawing her from her unpleasant reverie. He pointed at her, voice snide, “Let us proceed to the courtyard. _You_ will sign the treaty for all to see.”

* * *

Obi-Wan moved numbly back through the ray shielded corridor, face still wet with fresh tears, his fallen Master’s saber secured to his belt. The plasma refinery chamber was just ahead, its edges blurring before him. Sniffing once, he wiped at his face. Then, swifter than he’d been previous, he rushed across the catwalks and into the palace hangar. Running through the marbled halls, he slid to a halt before a grand window.

Naboo had grown incredibly quiet in the wake of the Sith’s defeat, and there was no sign of struggle or opposition in the sky nor on the surface. What the young Jedi witnessed instead as he peered below into the palace’s courtyard was the Queen - and it _had_ to be the Queen, with all the security detail that flanked her - being held at blaster-point in front of the palace’s entrance. A few natives stood in the square, units of droids forming a perimeter around them. The Force revealed their solemnity, and their expressions their defeat, their fury. Several recording cameras hung above their heads, all aimed at the Queen and the one who stood beside her, the Viceroy of the Trade Federation. He raised his arms, seemed to boast to the congregation as a droid ascended the palace stairs, a data-pad held between its clunky hands.

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, watched as the Queen grabbed its offered pen and began to write...

Swiftly, he tore through the palace. He sensed no imminent danger - it wasn’t an execution; the Viceroy wasn’t foolish enough to attempt to murder a sovereign member of the Republic on their own soil. _This must mean he’s convinced her to sign the treaty. But how?_ The Queen, despite being young and impressionable, hadn’t appeared weak-willed to him.

_What could this mean?_

Blackmail was the most obvious answer. And, Obi-Wan would soon discover, the _only_ answer. He stormed the courtyard, lightsaber at the ready - but it was too late. Padmé lowered the pen, expression grim. She caught sight of him as he stopped short, subtly shook her head.

“This blockade is now legal. We thank the Queen for her _cooperation_.” Said the Viceroy. Obi-Wan sheathed his Master’s saber as several droidekas rounded on him, blasters charging.

“ _Master Jedi_.” Gunray addressed him, “As you can see, the Queen has decreed this blockade legal, and so your presence here is no longer serviceable.”

Gunray motioned toward a few of the battle droids stationed off to the side.

“Confiscate his weapon and bring him aboard my shuttle.”

“That was not part of the deal, Viceroy.” Amidala said, furious.

“The deal has been altered.” Gunray sneered, “You want your family returned? Then we will make an exchange. The Jedi for the Naberries. That is _final_.”

“You can’t do this.” Amidala said through clenched teeth, upset. She moved as if to intercept the droids, but the droids stationed beside her raised their weapons, and her guards held her back. She didn’t tug herself free, wanting to remain dignified in the face of this injustice. Regardless, her nostrils flared in anger. She sighed deeply, looked to him apologetically and said, “I’m sorry for this inconvenience. Someone has betrayed me.”

“I’ll be alright, M’lady.” He assured, allowing the droids to take his Master’s lightsaber with only mild reluctance, “They won’t dare harm me anymore than they have already - it would upset relations with the Republic and tarnish the Viceroy’s standing in the Senate.”

Gunray grumbled, ”Get him out of my sight.”

“Wait!” Said the Viceroy’s underlings, “Weren’t there two Jedi?”

Gunray gazed rapidly around, as if expecting a surprise attack. Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. Grief, fully renewed, careened through him. He took several deep breaths, struggling to get a reign on his wayward emotions. When he opened his eyes again, he spoke with only the barest tremor,

“He’s been murdered.”

To the Queen he said, “I’ve subdued his attacker. The creature is no longer a threat.”

She nodded solemnly, asked quietly, “Where?”

“The plasma refinery.” Obi-Wan said, already being turned away by the droids, “The side of the palace’s hangar bay.”

“We’ll recover Master Jinn for you.” She assured.

As he was led away, Obi-Wan thought of one more thing. He looked over his shoulder to the Queen and said, “I’ll ensure your family is delivered to you safely. Personally, if I must. And I’ll inform the Council of what has occurred here. The Viceroy will _not_ get away with this.”

One of the droids escorting him shoved his shoulder, barked, _“Move it!”_

Amidala nodded, jaw clenched as she was dragged back into her palace, the heavy double doors closing behind her with a resounding _schink._

* * *

Days passed him by within the confinement of the control ship’s holding facility. He surmised, during his _stay_ , that the Trade Federation were brokering more deals. He sensed life forms nearby, wondered if they were the Queen’s family. He discovered the truth on the fourth day when Masters Mace Windu and Plo Koon opened the door of his cell, the Nemodian who’d attended to the Viceroy behind them, looking supremely displeased.

Master Koon held Qui-Gon’s recovered lightsaber in his hand.

“Have they fed you?” Windu asked.

“I’ve been permitted one meal a day.” Obi-Wan said, standing from the floor where he’d been meditating. He was disheveled, he knew. His _hosts_ had not allowed him access to any refreshers during his stay. The cell held a single commode, sink and bunk - but no shower.

“We...” Plo Koon began, pausing as he took in the Padawan learner, his gaunt face and tired features. “We had not heard from you in many rotations. We have only just learned what has transpired, surface side.”

Obi-Wan glanced at his Master’s saber, then quickly glanced away.

“The Trade Federation blackmailed the Queen.” He spoke, exiting the cell. Koon and Windu parted as he made his way into the hall. There, he discovered a squadron of battle droids had accompanied the Nemodian and his Masters to him, blasters at the ready. Obi-Wan momentarily tensed at the sight of them, but Windu placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed, and the tension fell away.

“They are holding her family here.” Obi-Wan continued, ignoring the Nemodian who muttered unintelligible curses at them, “I believe it was among the arrangements that they be released.”

“It was.” Master Koon confirmed, palming open a cell a few doors down from his own. Three figures lingered within, a man and two women, all in various states of distress, clothes rumpled and hair askew. The youngest - who appeared close in age to Amidala, was likely her sibling - sported a busted lip and a black eye. Obi-Wan’s fists curled.

“Be mindful, Obi-Wan.” Master Windu said softly, “Let us return these people to their home.”

“We’re going home?” The older woman asked, likely Amidala’s mother. She stood quickly, swayed. The man - likely Amidala’s father - and Amidala’s sister grabbed her arms before she could fall.

“I’m Jedi Master Mace Windu. This is Jedi Master Plo Koon and Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Master Windu spoke, bowing respectfully. “We’ll be escorting you to Naboo’s royal palace. There is much that has transpired since your capture.”

“I’m sure you have many questions.” Master Koon added, “We’ll fill you in on the way.”

Then, subtly, he offered to Obi-Wan his Master’s saber. Gratefully, hesitantly, Obi-Wan accepted it back. Koon then continued, “Now, we must leave.”

* * *

They Knighted him. Master Yoda clipped the padawan braid and the bun from his hair himself, the auburn locks falling to Naboo’s palace’s marbled floor. Obi-Wan requested an extension on his current mission. 

The council, sensing his unresolved emotions and inner turmoil and knowing removing him from the situation would prove less effective than allowing him to confront his feelings head on, permitted it.

* * *

In the end, the Naberries were placed under house arrest same as their Queen, whose activity became restricted to the Palace and its courtyards. Units of droids were stationed around the perimeter of the Royal house, constantly watching. When Obi-Wan was able to speak to the Queen again in private, it was with half a battalion of the Trade Federation’s droids observing.

“We gave your Master a proper Jedi’s farewell.” Amidala said softly, back in her regality, but dropping the accent for him, for this, “I’m deeply sorry, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m forever indebted to you.”

“Thank you.” He acknowledged, and then blatantly lied, “But I’ve released my feelings on the matter into the Force. I’ve moved on.”

Her eyes indicated she knew it wasn’t as he claimed, but she spared him the indignity of discussing it further and responded, “Thank you for delivering my family to me. Though I fear when you leave, all the efforts the Jedi have made will prove to have been made in vain.”

Obi-Wan did not fear such things, and he knew Amidala did not, either. Her words were merely doublespeak. She did not fear, she _knew -_ knew that his efforts would all be for naught as soon as the presence of the Jedi had disappeared. Even then, it didn’t seem to matter. The Trade Federation had already tried to kill him and his Master once with noxious gas. Who was to say they wouldn’t try something as devious and dishonorable again?

No, the Queen did not fear - but the constant monitoring meant she had to be careful about how she conversed, even within the sanctity of her own palace walls. Speaking in such manners was subterfuge. Obi-Wan briefly held the notion that, had circumstances been different, she would have made the perfect politician. 

The glint in her eyes was enough alone of an indication.

“I’ve discussed as much with the Council.” Obi-Wan confessed, “And they’ve agreed to allow me to remain here as a buffer for however long it takes to end the blockade.”

Her face revealed nothing. But her shock, mingled with her gratitude, rippled through the Force.

“That would prove interesting.” She responded delicately, “But that could mean a mandate that exceeds the duration at which you desire to stay.”

“Nute Gunray will be put on trial.” Obi-Wan reassured, “He held innocents and a Jedi hostage. He also attempted to kill said Jedi, and he invaded Naboo without legality. _And_ he used blackmail to coerce you into signing the treaty.”

“That will all be difficult to prove.” Amidala sighed, “Without mine or my families or my palace staffs’ testimonies. None of us can leave now without violating the treaty. And even if we could, the courts take too long. I’ve the sense Gunray will be rotated through his trial enough times to make the judges too exhausted to convict him.”

“It’s true.” Obi-Wan conceded. It’s why he despised the politics of their galaxy. “There is the possibility that he could be acquitted.”

Amidala rubbed her thumbs against her palms, peered down and away, lost in thoughts.

“Master Jedi,” She said moments later, gaze briefly flickering toward the droids. “If you are to remain here... I believe it best to inform you of some royal customs. The hair, for example.”

She smiled secretively, gestured to the elaborate wig that adorned her head in place of a crown. With one hand, she ran her fingers down the length of one of its braids, stopped midway to its end and pressed down into the locks...

A soft _beep_ sounded, and all of the battle droids around them deactivated instantly, weapons dropping as they folded in on themselves.

Recognition dawned upon Obi-Wan’s face. A small-scale deactivator had been hidden within the hair. What other devices had she stored within it? Had all of the Queen’s wardrobe another purpose to serve besides decoration and status? _A clever camouflage, if that is the case_ , Obi-Wan admired. The appearance of the Queen was subterfuge in and of itself.

“Now, we don’t have to worry about them listening in on us.” Amidala huffed, “At least for a time - I’m sure they’ll bug the palace once this becomes habit - but for now we can speak plainly. And we must hurry. They’ll send for more droids once they realize these have been shut down.”

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to smirk. The Trade Federation had no idea what they’d gotten themselves into with her.

“What the Trade Federation does not know about us will work to our advantage.” She said, seriousness a severity he’d seen only once before, when she’d enlisted Boss Nass for his help in the jungle. “I will not sit idly by while my people continue to suffer. Already, I am working against the Viceroy’s rule. Tell me, how are the Gungans? I’ve not been permitted to make contact with them.”

”They’ve been reluctant to cease fighting, but they’ve ceased.” Obi-Wan informed, “I spoke to Jar-Jar personally. He is well.”

Amidala released a long breath, momentarily shut her eyes. She smiled. Her relief was apparent, genuine. Obi-Wan felt it.

“I must warn you, however, about your intentions.” He reminded her regretfully, making her smile falter and wither, “If you oppose the Trade Federation now, and if you are caught... there is nothing I can do to help you.”

“You will do as you see fit.” Amidala conceded, “And if the moment arrives and I must receive punishment for my actions, then I will not hold it against you if you decide to stand aside. This is my arena. But I do ask one favor of you.”

Obi-Wan arched a single brow.

“I have a theory...” She started, haltingly, “I believe I know who has given the Trade Federation leverage against me. But I have no proof. Only a confession would appease the courts, anyway. But I’ve no way to obtain such a thing, seeing as I am confined to my palace. This is where you would come in.”

“I’ll remind you,” Obi-Wan admonished, “That I’m here to protect you, _not_ start an investigation for you.”

“What if I told you that I believe the one who aided the Trade Federation was the very same person who urged me come to Coruscant, who persuaded me into voting no confidence in the Chancellor Valorum?” She asked, “Would that sway your decision?”

Obi-Wan blinked.

“The elected Chancellor Palpatine?” He asked, “A Naboo citizen? Your former _Senator_? You insinuate him in your supposition?”

Padmé sat dejectedly back, mouth twisting.

“If you are unwilling to even _consider_ my-”

“I’m merely exhausting all other possibilities.” Obi-Wan interjected, appeasing, “You’re certain it was him? Not someone you’ve made an enemy of, not a member of the palace?”

“I’ve ruled out every other possibility.” She shook her head, “And an investigation into the palace proved what I already knew - it was no one close to me. Not within these walls, anyway. But something the Viceroy said alerted me to the truth. He’d said that the one who had betrayed me was _long gone,_ and I do not believe he meant in death.”

She paused, waited for his response. Obi-Wan, curious, gave it in a slight nod for her to continue.

Padmé explained, “When I was still a child, my father served as Naboo’s Senator. I visited Coruscant with him often. He’d preceded Palpatine in service, and I was present for the transitioning of appointment. Even so, I’d met Palpatine personally many times before that. Palpatine became like a mentor, in ways. He offered me a chance to attend Senate hearings with him, even though my father would return to University work.”

“You make it sound as if you’re accusing a congenial man of betrayal.” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but be skeptical. “What has he to gain by doing any of what you accuse him of? Do you really believe he would have aided the Trade Federation in blockading his own home world?”

“I don’t know.” Amidala confessed, distraught, “I don’t want to believe that Palpatine is a traitor. I denied the truth to myself, but he had motive - it’s always been rumored that Palpatine is politically avaricious. I ignored such gossip in the past because of the good work that he put into our world, but now I see I was wrong to ignore gut instincts. I had the inclinations after he was appointed Chancellor that he hadn’t Naboo’s best interest at heart. He tried to convince me to defer to the Trade Federation, claimed there was nothing to be done. He’d gotten what he’d wanted. Naboo matters nothing to him, so long as he has power.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Her accusations bordered imprecation, but her words carried conviction - she believed them. And she wanted him to believe them, too.

And he was starting to.

“Is it not something you can sense in the Force?” She wondered, “Someone’s intentions?”

He shook his head.

“It’s not so easy, no - not if the one you are trying to read is of strong mind.”

The sounds of battle droids clanking through the palace reached his ears.

“Our ruse is almost up.” Amidala sighed, having heard their steady march to the throne room as well. “Have you made a decision, Master Jedi? Will you help me discover the truth?”

“The _truth_ , yes.” Obi-Wan said pointedly, “Though I must warn you, it will not be easy. Palpatine is Chancellor and will have a retinue of attendants and guards and work, now - much more so than he’s ever had in the past. I will wade through much before I am able to even reach an audience with him. In the meantime, I will inform the council of your suspicions. Only if they deem it appropriate to investigate will I be able to act.”

“That is all I ask, Obi-Wan.” She smiled appreciatively, regaining her posture as the fresh wave of battle droids stormed the throne room.

“What is the meaning of this?” One asked, tinny voice echoing, “Why are all of these droids deactivated?”

“ _You_ tell _me_.” Amidala bellowed, “If the Trade Federation cannot keep their droids supplied with enough power to process through an entire operating cycle, what hope have they of ever maintaining their own authority, their own demands?”

“ _Uh_...” One of the droids scratched its plated head, “You mean... the Jedi didn’t do this?”

Amidala scoffed, arm sweeping the room in a broad gesture.

“Do you see the pristine condition they’re in? There are no lightsaber marks. The droids suddenly deactivated - that is what I witnessed.”

“I can concur.” Obi-Wan added, baffled by the dim-witted droid’s processing units as they said,

“Then... I’ll report the faulty state of this unit to the Viceroy.”

“And I will retire for the night.” Amidala stood, extending a hand for Obi-Wan to take. He recognized the gesture as less a demand he escort her and more an excuse that would allow him to leave, as well. Taking her arm, he walked them through the throne room towards the doors. When the droids attempted to follow, Amidala threw at them over her shoulder,

“This does not require your services. You are dismissed.”

Too witless to realize her commands could not govern them, the battle droids listened.

* * *

Only weeks later did Obi-Wan remember in between meetings with the Queen and the Federation and struggling to find his footing amidst a world without his Master’s presence the promise he’d failed to keep.

_Return to Tatooine_ , Qui-Gon had gasped, using his dying breath to give one last, final instruction, _train the boy we left behind_.

_I will_ , Obi-Wan had choked, voice breaking on the words, _I promise_.

Later, he would tell Amidala - Amidala who herself was powerless to help him in her current position, but who was sympathetic to his adamancy and who did not hold it against him when he asked for her understanding. She, too, had wanted to return when the Trade Federation ordeal was over. But like him, she could not leave now, either - his Jedi mandate prevented him from doing so. So, she employed the aid of her most capable handmaiden Sabé, had her smuggled out of Naboo. Obi-Wan had thanked the handmaiden - who would eventually, in the years to come, trust him enough to reveal to him her true name of Tsabin - personally before her departure, and she’d ensured she would do everything within her power to liberate the boy and, if possible, his mother as well.

In the end, however, her search had proven to be all for naught.

“I arrived on Tatooine only to discover both Shmi and Anakin Skywalker no longer resided in the home of the address Queen Amidala supplied me with.” Tsabin would report, “I visited the Toydarian Watto’s shop in lieu of this discovery. I questioned him as to their whereabouts... he informed me that the Mother had died, and that he’d sold the boy to off-worlders.”

“Do you know who?” Obi-Wan asked.

Tsabin shook her head regretfully, “He would not say, not even when I offered him the funds the Queen supplied me with to travel and bargain. Republic currency is apparently not accepted so far out in the galaxies. I’m deeply sorry, Master Jedi. I’m more than willing to continue my search.”

“No.” Obi-Wan said, unable to disguise his dispirit, “You’ve risked too much already by leaving. It was the will of the Force you managed to bypass the blockade the first time and return to us unscathed.”

_I’m sorry, Qui-Gon,_ he thought, disheartened.

_Be patient_ , Qui-Gon seemed to respond, catching the young Knight by surprise. _All is as the Force wills it to be._

“All due respect, Master Jedi,” Tsabin smiled teasingly, bringing Obi-Wan back to the moment at hand, “What the Queen is planning is bound to get me into _far_ more trouble than wherever you would have me sent would.”

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. He’d known, for some time, that Amidala had started up a coup to overthrow the Trade Federation. How and when she planned to commence with the attack was a mystery to him. He’d asked, on several occasions, what she planned - did she need his help? _The less you know,_ she’d informed every time without fail, _the better._

It was her misguided way of protecting him, should the plan fall through. Allowing him to claim no involvement kept the Jedi out of her entanglements, out of stifling bureaucratic affairs.

But it could also mean serious consequences, if she failed.

And she did fail.

_Six Years Ago_

“You can’t do this!” Padmé clamored when the Viceroy informed her that he’d be amending their constitution through a mandatory, rigged voting. She’d served her two terms and was ready to forfeit the throne to someone who could succeed where she had failed. “The people will never allow it!”

“Enough of them pity you. Especially the Gungans.” Gunray said, “And they’ll do it if it means a leniency on their taxes. You’ll be re-elected and continue to serve as my puppet, Queen.”

_Five Years Ago_

The second battle to take back Naboo commenced approximately a year after her second, rigged re-election. It had been a valiant effort, had started in the early morning hours - so unexpected that not even Obi-Wan himself had anticipated it. Twelve women, all dressed alike and trailed by Naboo’s royal guards, were scattered throughout the palace, fighting mini-battles and escaping into the city of Theed. Obi-Wan was directionless during the insurgency, struggling to find the true Queen amid the handmaidens whose job, he discovered soon enough, was to throw off the battle droids so that Amidala, whose role was to take the droid control center, could achieve her part of the operation.

It was clever, but it failed. Obi-Wan didn’t ask for the details when the droids dumped the Queen, detained, back into the palace. She sported a vicious cut that swept down from above her right brow to below her right eye, just barely missing the eye itself. It had clotted by the time they reunited, already a scar.

The palace surgeon would tell her later, “You’re lucky it didn’t leave you blind.”

“Now we’ll be able to distinguish you from your treacherous doppelgängers.” Gunray’s underling had decreed as the embargo strengthened, as security tightened. “If there is a repeat of such insolence, I worry this cut you’ve contracted could become more _lethal_.”

Obi-Wan had not been present for such things, however. Called back to Coruscant to testify against the Viceroy, he had no way of knowing that such a threat had been leveled against the Queen. And even after he’d returned, she did not relay to him all that had transpired in his absence. It was, after all, only a threat. The Viceroy did not dare kill her, not with his trial growing more public with every passing day. If she were to turn up dead, all eyes would turn directly to him.

But there were days, she thought, dejected, that her death might bring the liberation she so fiercely sought. She undermined the Trade Federation at every turn, but winning one battle meant losing fifteen more. Every time she thought she was making progress, more sanctions and levies were thrown her way. Public opinion was swaying. The people who’d elected her into office were divided about her now. Protestors rallied around the palace almost daily, but there was not enough of them to warrant the Viceroy’s attention. Which surprised Padmé - she thought having public dissent would encourage his desire to do away with her.

Instead, it did the opposite.

_Two Years Ago_

Obi-Wan returned in time for the the fourth and, unbeknownst to them at the time, final rigged re-election. Padmé was voted into office for her fifth term, bone-weary and beat down as she prepared her public statement.

“I spoke to the Chancellor.” He would inform her, the changes in him as visceral as they were in her. The passage of time had lengthened his hair, given him a beard. He’d constructed a new lightsaber, but held that of his Master’s always near. As for herself, Padmé had grown in height, had traded out the vibrancy of her past wardrobe for a more subdued, neutral palette. The red makeup that had once decorated her face became a pale blue, the beauty marks that adorned her cheeks transitioned into long streaks that resembled tears - because she wept in the nights, tired of it all, but she could not weep before her enemies.

She appeared a Queen in mourning. It served no other purpose than to showcase, on the rare occasions she was allowed to address her people through public broadcasts, that she was as upset over her current circumstances as they. And still, she wore it in the confines of the palace walls as reminder to herself - and would continue to do so until the embargo had lifted.

“I’m to assume that the discussion proved as successful as my attempt to step down from the throne?” She asked Obi-Wan, raising a single brow.

_“Chancellor Palpatine, I come with word from the Queen Amidala. She’s found new evidence that could be used against the Viceroy in his trial. She believes he was aided by a third party.”_

_“Ah, I see. Tell me, is there any proof of this?”_

_“None, your Excellency. It is my idea however that the Viceroy Gunray has not confessed to such in his trials for he fears the one that has aided him in the embargo.”_

_“That seems unlikely. The Viceroy Gunray would surely have confessed to the real culprit, were there one other than him. Worry not over this matter.”_

_“Chancellor, I must insist the truth of this matter be discovered.”_

_“... Tell me, what have the Jedi Council to say on this matter?”_

_“That it’s given me grounds to investigate... within my parameters.”_

_“Then by all means, Master Jedi... continue your search, if it so pleases you. And... if you happen upon something worth sharing, I implore you - report back to me, and I will do everything within my power to discover the truth.”_

“You would assume correct, M’lady.” Obi-Wan said regretfully. The Chancellor had been steeped in unreadable feelings. No matter how hard Obi-Wan had tried to get a grasp on him, he could not - the man had slipped continuously through his fingers. It was if the Force itself occluded Palpatine, his ability to be interpreted.

And it was something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by the other Jedi.

Padmé closed her eyes, lifted a single hand and felt along the scar that bisected her skin. She hadn’t achieved it in battle. It had occurred after her defeat, in the cell of a holding facility where they’d hired a bounty hunter to interrogate her. When she’d refused to speak, they’d pinned her down and cut her face slowly, painstakingly...

In a manner similar to how the Trade Federation had drawn out their blockade.

“Things are looking up, at least.” Obi-Wan said lightly, distracting her from her unpleasant memories. He always tried to parcel in some good news with the bad, for her sake. “The Viceroy’s third trial is approaching. He’ll be out of your hair for a fortnight, at the very least.”

Padmé dropped her hand and managed a genuine smile.

She was still the Queen, even if that title held less and less meaning with every passing day. Even if her people - who after years and years of living under her reign - despised her, she would fight for them until her dying breath.

“I’m planning another insurgency.” She confessed to Obi-Wan later that same evening. She spoke as freely as she wished, a silencer stashed somewhere in her ensemble. It deactivated any nearby listening bugs the Federation might have implanted in the palace. “I know you can’t help, but I thought it best to warn you so that you’re not as caught off guard as last time.”

“When do you plan to revolt?”

“Two years from now, to the day.” She explained, “We’ve been hoarding relief supplies in the palace’s basement. I’ve made an... _ally_...in the banking clan. He’s set up a private fund for me, non-Republic currency.”

At Obi-Wan’s disapproving look she hastened, “It’s only in the event our mutiny prolongs to the point that the Trade Federation withholds food and medical. If our supplies run out, which they _will_ , the only way I’ll be able to feed my people is through black market suppliers.”

“This is dangerous.” Obi-Wan warned, “Probably far more dangerous than your last endeavor.”

“Syndicates are dangerous everywhere.” Padmé fumed, gesturing toward the droid control ship that sat visibly in the sky outside the palace’s windows. “I don’t need the reminder.”

“Forgive me.” Obi-Wan sighed, brows knitting, “It’s just... I’ve known you for a very long time now, Padmé. I’ve come to care for you as one might care for a sibling. When you run into these situations and come out scathed...”

He looked deliberately toward her scar. Then, ashamed, he looked quickly away. A moment later, her hand moved toward him, gripped him delicately by his arm.

“Obi-Wan, I’ve come to care for you as well.” She spoke softly, “It’s why I’m entrusting you with this information, why I hope you’ll listen to me and refrain from getting yourself involved. I’m sorry that I’ve given you cause for concern. But I won’t apologize for my decisions.”

“Then I shall aid you.” Obi-Wan resolved, meeting her eyes, “With or without the Council’s approval. Or your own.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.” She shook her head, adamant, “I won’t allow you to hurt your standing within the Jedi order over it.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve given you cause for concern.” He smiled mischievously at her, throwing her own words back in her face, “But I won’t apologize for my decisions.”

Padmé looked cross for all of five seconds before she laughed, the shock of it making her throw her head back. Obi-Wan smiled at the warmth of that sound - in all the time he’d known her, he’d never known Padmé to allow herself such a small, joyous freedom.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.” She said, wiping at her watering eyes with her fingers as she continued to giggle, “You’ve done more than enough, and I’m grateful for it everyday.”

“Two years.” He said, his own laughter fading as the realization of what was to come sobered him. “Fill me in?”

“With pleasure.” She said, and surprised him by wrapping her arms securely around his middle, “But for now, afford yourself this small comfort. It’s the only way I know to thank you in ways other than words.”

Awkwardly, he patted her back.

”Just hug me back, you old zealot.” She demanded. He laughed, and did as the Queen decreed.

_The Present_

_Later_ , Tsabin mused, _some will call it luck, coincidence. Obi-Wan however will undoubtedly claim it as the will of the Force._

“What were the chances the droid control ship would be ambushed and blown up from the inside out on the very same day we commenced with our attack?” She asked her Queen, awed as they trekked through the jungle, searching for the non-Federation freighter that the Naboo pilots had claimed came flying from the belly of the control center in a blaze of glory right as it’d blown. It’d taken out the central processing unit, had been damaged in the skirmish and blasted through the atmosphere but hopefully, _hopefully_ its passengers had survived.

They had to thank whoever was inside for what they’d done, whether their dismantling had been intentional or not.

“ _Slim_.” Padmé responded, tripping over a tree’s root in her hurry to reach Naboo’s saviors. Six different sets of hands reached out - Cordé and Dormé, newly appointed security detail member Typho, Panaka and Obi-Wan as well as herself - all ready to catch the Queen; but the Queen only laughed, righted herself and hurried forward again, throwing all caution to the wind as she practically ran through the bramble. Obi-Wan looked ready to berate her for being so careless, but held his tongue in favor of seeing the now twenty-four year old out of the palace for the first time in a decade, out in the world.

For the first time in ten years, she was _free_. They all were. Padmé had forgone the stately attire for this endeavor, her bare face beaming as they continued their search for their liberator - _whoever_ they were.

Tsabin took in a deep breath of fresh air, grateful herself to be out of the high ceilinged halls and among the trees, grass, flowers and streams. Running ahead, she grabbed Padmé’s hand in her own, the both of them giggling as they raced toward the location of the downed freighter, Obi-Wan, the other handmaidens and the royal guards not far behind.

Undoing all the Federation had enacted would take time, but for now, they’d allow themselves this brief moment of respite.

It was at the sight of the wreckage where the respite came to a sudden and all encompassing halt. Strewn among the crash site were two figures, one a human male who appeared close to their age, the other a Togruta child as young as Padmé had been, when she’d first been elected. Padmé gasped at the sight of them, their unconscious and prone bodies lying beside the fire and debris of their crashed ship. Tsabin squeezed Padmé’s palm once in reassurance before they both descended, and Padmé squeezed back.

“Hurry!” Padmé yelled to their entourage, “They’re injured!”

Obi-Wan was first through the clearing, followed swiftly by Cordé and Dormé, whose faces wrought worry, and then the guards whose concern was equal the handmaidens’ own. Together, they all descended the hill and approached the bodies. Obi-Wan went to the girl’s side as the guards attended to the man. His face briefly registered shock as he bent down, inspected her injuries...

”What is it?” Tsabin asked him, still holding tight to Padmé’s hand.

”This child...” He began, frowning, “She’s incredibly sensitive to the Force.”

”We need to get them medical attention, now.” Padmé urged. She turned to Captain Typho, who helped Panaka lift a piece of debris off of the wounded man’s legs. “Guards, please call for assistance immediately.”

”Yes, M’lady.” They responded, before hurrying to relay a signal.

* * *

Obi-Wan stared at the girl, wondering...

A gust of wind blew past, and with it, the faint sound of his late Master’s chuckle.

Obi-Wan remembered then the words he’d heard so long ago, the voice he’d written off as his own delusions come to him in a time of distress. It returned as he lifted the girl in his arms, depositing her gently onto a stretcher once the doctors had arrived...

_All is as the Force wills it to be._

_Indeed,_ Obi-Wan agreed _,_ laughing quietly to himself, looking toward the sky as the winds of change urged them out of the past and into the future.


	9. revelations

Ahsoka stepped into the palace’s medical facility with trepidation. From his bed, Kitster noticed her entering. His grim expression grew marginally hopeful.

“Any luck today?” He asked nervously. His legs had been severely injured in the crash, and he was still too weak to stand. Though she’d suffered her own fair share of injuries, an overnight in the bacta-tank had mostly healed her completely. Though the medic had informed her that the scarring on her lekku was irreversible. Ahsoka had only nodded, failing to mention that she’d contracted that injury from something else entirely.

Now, Ahsoka hung her head in defeat. They’d been searching the jungle for days, excavating the land and overturning what was left of the Aurore-freighter, all in search of Anakin’s device. Somewhere between leaving the morning of the pod-race and crash-landing onto Naboo, they’d discovered that the device had been lost.

”No.” Ahsoka said regretfully. Kitster’s face fell. She ventured hesitantly, “Are you certain you’d had it with you that day?”

”Certain as the setting suns.” Kitster sighed. He dropped his head in his hands.

”Maybe you’re wrong.” Ahsoka suggested. She wrapped her arms around herself, shrugging, “Maybe you left it at your homestead?”

”No.” The certainty in Kitster’s voice was inescapable. “I always have it with me... until _now_ , that is.”

”Then it is lost.” Came Obi-Wan’s somber voice.

Ahsoka turned to find him and Padmé walking in through the door, the astromech Artoo following closely behind. Their expressions were troubled. They stopped at the foot of Kitster’s bed, the both of them managing to muster a smile in greeting. Ahsoka returned one of her own, the awe of having met the two of them not yet over. She still couldn’t believe she stood in the presence of a Jedi Knight _and_ a Queen, and the ones from Anakin’s story, no less.

”Perhaps Anakin could build another.” Padmé suggested.

”It would take years.” Kitster said, running his hand down his face and covering his mouth. Through his fingers he spoke, “The parts he’d needed weren’t always available, and when they were, they were hard to get our hands on.”

Obi-Wan stroked his beard, face one of deep consideration.

”Then we’ll simply supply him the parts needed to make another.” He offered.

”Weren’t you listening? That will take too long!” Ahsoka protested, uncaring if it sounded rude or inconsiderate. “Anakin doesn’t have that kind of time right now. We left him behind to deal with the falling out of my failure. There’s no telling _what_ Watto did to him!”

Padmé shot a worried glance at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan raised a single brow at her in response. Ahsoka put her head in her hands, nails sinking into the skin as she struggled to think. Obi-Wan appeared conflicted, opened his mouth to deliver what she suspected were only words meant to placate. Before he could deliver them, however, Padmé spoke up,

”There’s an alternative. I have a way we can free Anakin _and_ rebuild his device.”

Obi-Wan, seeming to understand before the rest of them, chuckled derisively.

”You mean your credit-laundering scheme?”

Padmé ignored him and continued, “I’ve accumulated quite a bit of non-standard currency, these last few years.”

”That’s very generous of you to suggest.” Kitster said regretfully, “But I’m afraid Watto won’t bargain with you. Many people have tried, since Qui-Gon, all have failed.”

”Without Master Jinn...” Padmé sighed deeply, “It will be difficult to get Watto to honor the bet they made.”

”Wasn’t anyone else with him, when he altered the deal?” Ahsoka asked desperately, “A witness?”

”... Jar-Jar.” Padmé said, eyes lighting. “He’d been with Qui-Gon when he’d changed the terms. He’d told me so himself, years ago. I’ll contact him immediately. He can accompany us back to Tatooine to-”

She made to leave when a newcomer approached. An eye-patch covered their left eye, and they dressed in the uniform Ahsoka had, in the days since she’d woken in the palace, come to recognize as the royal guard’s.

”Captain Gregar Typho.” Padmé introduced as he made his way toward them, “Meet Naboo’s saviors, Ahsoka Tano and Kitster Chanchani Banai.”

”A pleasure.” He bowed respectfully, and Ahsoka and Kitster, both a bit overwhelmed and embarrassed by the all the praise they’d thus far encountered since waking, bowed their heads bashfully in return. When Typho straightened, Padmé continued,

”Ahsoka Tano, Kitster Chanchani Banai, meet my head of security, Gregar Typho.”

”A... a pleasure.” Kitster stuttered. Ahsoka glanced at her friend, discovered him red-faced, lips parted and eyes unblinking as he stared at Typho.

” _Oh, geez_.” She muttered beneath her breath, “All my friends are love-sick, starry-eyed spacers.”

Obi-Wan shot her an amused, if curious, smile. Ahsoka, realizing the Jedi had heard her, chuckled nervously before refocusing her attention on Padmé and Typho.

”Captain,” Padmé asked, “Have you come with any news? I need to meet with Representative Binks immediately, if it isn’t urgent.”

” _Dire_ news, I’m afraid.” He answered regretfully, “There’s been a... complication. For your own safety, we need to relocate you immediately.”

Obi-Wan sprung to attention.

”What’s happened?” He asked.

Typho looked between his Queen, who now radiated distress, and Obi-Wan who didn’t fare much better.

”The leader of the Confederacy of Independent Systems has just arrived.” Typho informed, “He’s requesting an audience with you, M’lady.”

The room grew eerily quiet. Ahsoka and Kister glanced at one another, expressions mirrored in their confusion. Ahsoka hesitantly ventured,

”Who... is that?”

”My former Master’s Master.” Obi-Wan said grimly. “ _Count Dooku_. He defected from the Jedi order over a decade ago.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened considerably.

”Jedi can _do that_?” She asked, “They can just... _leave_?”

”We know why he’s come.” Padmé said grimly, gaze focused on the middle distance. She laughed without humor, shook her head and continued, “Here I was thinking we’d escaped oppression.”

”Dooku is a political idealist.” Obi-Wan reprimanded her, “Not a tyrant. He’s come to recruit you, if anything.”

”If that is the case,” Padmé said, very clearly angered, “Then maybe I’ll consider whatever he has to offer.”

Obi-Wan blinked, asked, “ _Pardon me_?”

Ahsoka looked away, suddenly feeling like an intruder upon their conversation. Kitster did the same, picking at the material of the blanket draped around him to distract.

”The Republic has done very little for the people of Naboo.” Padmé said. Obi-Wan opened his mouth as if to protest, but Padmé held up a single hand, silencing him before he could even speak with the simple gesture.

“You’ve been the greatest help, Obi-Wan, but the fact of the matter is that I understand why so many worlds have defected. Our current rule represents a failure to listen. The Republic is on the brink of war.”

”Let us not forget,” Obi-Wan said scathingly, expression hardening, “Who helped our current rule rise to power.”

Padmé sucked in a breath. The few nurses passing by the room gave pause. Typho cleared his throat uncomfortably. Artoo cooed solemnly.

Ahsoka looked between all of them, utterly lost.

”Captain.” Padmé said, looking away from Obi-Wan, “Gather the handmaidens. It’s time to don the Queens regalia once again.”

And with that she exited the medical facility, Typho following closely behind, trying in vain to get her to reconsider and go into hiding.

”I’m... I apologize for that dispute you were witness to, just now.” Obi-Wan said after a moment had passed. Ahsoka looked up to find the Jedi smiling apologetically at them. “I’m usually better at negotiating than that.”

”I wouldn’t call _that_ negotiating.” Ahsoka said carefully. “I’m guessing whatever you two were discussing is a long standing argument?”

”That’s putting it simply.”

”Should... should we be worried about whoever this Dooku is?” Kitster finally spoke up. He looked between them and the door Padmé had departed through with obvious worry. “I have a feeling we should be worried.”

”Best I go with her.” Obi-Wan said, mostly to himself, “Lest she leave the Republic entirely.”

Not a moment later, Obi-Wan was gone, too.

“Ahsoka,” Kitster said anxiously, “Do you have _any_ idea what’s going on?”

”None.” Ahsoka said. Even though Obi-Wan and Padmé had explained their sides of the story to her and she and Kitster had explained their own days before, what was happening before her now was uncharted. Ahsoka was moving before she even realized it.

”Where are you going?” Kitster asked.

”I don’t know.” Ahsoka confessed. She looked down at Artoo, who’d been left behind in the wake of everyone else’s dramatic exit. “Think you can sneak me into that meeting they’ve all left to attend?”

Artoo chirped, turned on their servos and made a ‘ _follow me_ ’ gesture.

Ahsoka shot Kitster a smirk over her shoulder as she did exactly that.

* * *

Dooku was like a blades edge as he stepped into the throne room. A lightsaber hilt hung from his belt, design contrastingly different from Obi-Wan’s. From beneath the low brim of the handmaiden’s cloak, Ahsoka’s mouth twisted at Dooku’s slow approach past the dignitaries and to the throne. She didn’t like the feeling Dooku invoked. Judging by Obi-Wan’s suddenly rigid posture, the Jedi Knight didn’t like him either.

”Greetings, your Majesty.” Dooku said, voice a low, austere rumble. “I hear congratulations are in order - you’ve _finally_ liberated your people.”

Padmé merely inclined her head. When she spoke, it was with a voice Ahsoka had never before heard her employ: powerful, commanding, and authoritative.

”Let’s forgo the pleasantries, Count Dooku. I know why you’ve come today. I will not betray the Republic, despite how it lacks. If you’d wanted my star system, you should have offered your help in liberating us from the Trade Federation before they were handled. Your trip here has been wasted.”

Dooku took in that information. However he reacted to the Queen’s words, he didn’t show it outwardly. It made Ahsoka all the more suspicious.

”I see.” Dooku sighed. He gazed at the floor a moment before starting again, voice correctional, “But I’m afraid you are mistaken, young Queen. I’ve come not to recruit Naboo into the Separatist cause, but for another purpose entirely.”

He shifted his focus then from Padmé to Obi-Wan, who stood directly at her side.

”Obi-Wan Kenobi, isn’t it? It’s a shame our paths have never crossed until now. Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you.”

Solemnly he added, “I wish he were still alive.”

Obi-Wan looked down and away. Padmé looked up at him. Pursing his lips, he raised his head and asked, quietly after the silence,

”... What do you want? Why have you come here, if not to acquire Naboo?”

”To recruit you to my cause.” Dooku stated simply, “To take you on as my apprentice.”

”I won’t betray the Republic.” Obi-Wan said, voice changing, _hardening_ , “My allegiance is to democracy. You hope to invoke war.”

”Bold accusations.” Dooku’s brows raised. “But if you knew the truth as I do, you would not hesitate to take my offer.”

”What truth?” Padmé asked carefully. Dooku regarded her for a moment before he said again to Obi-Wan,

”The truth... the truth that a Sith Lord has control of the Senate.”

Padmé stood slowly from her throne.

” _You lie_.” Obi-Wan accused coldly. “What you imply isn’t possible. The Jedi would know of it.”

”I’ve no reason to lie.” Dooku stated calmly. “The dark side has clouded their vision, my friend. Hundreds of Senators are now under the control of a Dark Lord of the Sith known as... Darth Sidious.”

” _Palpatine_.” Padmé said, with enough conviction to leave no doubt in Ahsoka’s mind that it was _true_. The Queen turned to Typho and said, “I’ll leave for Coruscant immediately.”

”And do what?” Obi-Wan asked beneath his breath, “Take on a supposed Sith Lord alone? Dooku is _lying_.”

”Then why does it feel like the _truth_?” She challenged. “I’m still the Queen. I still have _some_ sway. It’s time I right my wrongs. Now step aside.”

When Obi-Wan failed to do so, she stepped around him and made for the exit, her entourage following. Ahsoka, forgetting her disguise, stayed behind.

”I see why you really came.” Obi-Wan said, once only the three of them remained. “You knew how the Queen would react to your words. Now she’s running a fools errand.”

”Do you still believe I lie?” Dooku asked, arching a single brow. He extended a hand toward Obi-Wan, palm up. Ahsoka looked between the two of them, the breath catching in her throat. Something about that simple gesture seemed significant.

”Join me, Obi-Wan. Your decision here and now will affect everything. Should you reject me, I _will_ leave you in peace, but I cannot ensure the safety of your Queen. As we speak, my allies root for her demise.”

Obi-Wan’s brows drew down and together sharply. He grabbed the lightsaber at his belt and said lowly,

”Leave in _peace_ , then.”

Dooku pursed his lips, shook his head, turned on his heel and departed - but not before he said, letting his arm drop to his side,

”Qui-Gon knew all about the corruption in the Senate, but he would never have gone along with it if he knew what you know now.”

For a long time after Dooku was gone, Obi-Wan grappled. He ran his fingers through his hair, stroked his chin, lost deep in thought...

Finally, _finally_ , he turned to her. Ahsoka let out her long, held breath. Slowly Obi-Wan approached, small, tired smile stretching his lips.

”How did you manage to sneak in beneath all of our noses?” He asked, flipping back the hood of her disguise to find a bowl sitting atop her head, covering her montrals. At the sight of her apologetic eyes peering up at him from beneath the ceramic dish, he barked an unexpected laugh. Gently, he removed it.

”Your clever.” He conceded, and she finally offered up a hesitant smile of her own.

”Let’s return this to the kitchens, shall we?” He asked. Wordlessly, Ahsoka nodded.

They walked side by side back through the halls. Artoo greeted them partway there, waiting where Ahsoka had left him. Obi-Wan gave the astromech a pointed look when they chirped their hello.

”Don’t act so innocent. I know you aided this mischief maker.”

Artoo trilled a beep.

”Excuses.” Obi-Wan tsked. Artoo made a sound like laughter, and Obi-Wan sent them away with the bowl. They resumed their walk once Artoo was headed for the kitchens.

”Obi-Wan.” Ahsoka started hesitantly when they were alone once more, “Why did Dooku ask you to join him?”

Obi-Wan stilled. He gradually came to a stop in the long, marbled hall. When he faced Ahsoka, it was with a deep seriousness in his eyes.

”Because Dooku has turned to the dark side.” Obi-Wan said gravely. He folded his hands into the sleeves of his cloak. “He seeks an apprentice. He’s abandoned the ideals of the Jedi.”

”But... why? Why would he leave the Jedi?”

”... Only he would be able to answer that, I’m afraid.”

”He felt... _bad_.” Ahsoka confessed, “When he walked into the room, I had the feeling he wasn’t good. Is that what the dark side is?”

”... Essentially.” Obi-Wan shrugged a single shoulder. “The Force is mysterious and complicated, Ahsoka. In time, you’ll learn to understand it.”

“Well,” Ahsoka admitted, “I’m less worried about the Force and more worried about Anakin. We’ve been here for too long. I need to go back for him.”

”You’re still recovering.” Obi-Wan interjected apologetically, “As is Kitster.”

”But I’ve been-”

Ahsoka cut herself off before she could give voice to what had been, since the moment she’d awoken on Naboo, giving her cause for concern.

”You’ve been having dreams.” Obi-Wan filled in for her. Ahsoka whirled on him, gaze questioning.

”How did you know?” She asked.

”The first night when we brought you in, when everything was touch and go, you called out for Anakin in your sleep.”

Ahsoka deflated. Obi-Wan bent at the knees and met her at eye-level.

”Dreams pass in time.”

”But the dream I had, it felt... it felt like it was _more_ than a dream. I think... I think Anakin is in danger.”

But how did she explain it to him what she’d seen, what she’d heard, and have him believe it? It had been difficult enough, deciphering it all on her own. The world she’d entered in sleep had been opaque, the sounds she’d listened to there distorted - and still she’d heard the screech of something terrible.

”Obi-Wan, sir.” Ahsoka pleaded, “Please, I... I _felt_ him suffering. I know he needs our help.”

”And we will be returning for him.” Obi-Wan reassured, “Just as soon as-”

“No!” Ahsoka blurted, unable you stop her voice from rising. She didn’t need placating words of comfort, she needed action. Whatever held Obi-Wan back, it wasn’t governing her. She wanted to act and she wanted to act _now_. “Anakin _needs_ our help! I know you thought he was lost, and I know that’s why you gave up years ago, but he’s been there, waiting, and I don’t want to make him wait any longer.”

Obi-Wan inhaled roughly, searched her eyes...

”Please.” Ahsoka reasoned, “Obi-Wan, you’re... you’re our only hope.”

* * *

”If what Dooku says is true,” Padmé said, standing with Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Typho, and Jar-Jar Binks at Kitster’s bedside, “Then my next course of action will either prove or debunk his claim.”

”I must advise caution with whatever endeavor your about to pursue.” Obi-Wan warned, “Dooku leveled a threat against you mere seconds after you departed from the throne room.”

”Dooku doesn’t frighten me.” Padmé said, “Actually, I believe he _wants_ bid me do his dirty work. Why else would he have confessed to what he did?”

”To manipulate you.” Obi-Wan replied.

”Manipulate for what purpose? I had my suspicions about Palpatine already-”

”Of which you were _unable_ to prove.” Obi-Wan interjected pointedly.

”-and whether or not he is what Dooku claims him to be, I’m still going to discover what I know to be the truth: that he aided the Trade Federation, that he gave them the information they needed to blackmail me.”

”... Do be careful, then.” Obi-Wan sighed, rubbing his face in exhaustion. “Captain Typho, please keep a vigilant watch. Something tells me Dooku’s threat could become a problem later on, if left unchecked.”

”M’lady will be in excellent hands, Master Jedi.” Typho assured. But puzzled he asked, “You... won’t be joining us to the Capitol?”

”No.” Obi-Wan responded, “I’ve to complete a mission I started nearly ten years ago. It isn’t... Jedi Council sanctioned, so your discretion on the matter would be most appreciated.”

”Understood.” Typho nodded.

”Meesa moy glad to be getting to see little Ani again.” Jar-Jar said exuberantly.

”As am I, Jar-Jar.” Padmé smiled, though the edges were tinged with regret, forlorn. She touched the necklace that hung around her neck absently, it’s stone engraved with intricate design. Ahsoka said to the Queen, sincerely,

”Believe me when I say he’ll be glad to see you, too.”

”That’s reassuring.” Padmé confessed, returning her hand to her side. “After you informed us that Watto had lied to my handmaiden and that Anakin was still on Tatooine, I could only imagine him resenting us. He must’ve thought we’d abandoned him... in ways, we _did_. It was my suggestion that we leave him behind. If only I’d known how things would turn out, I never would’ve...”

She trailed off, voice fading. Obi-Wan placed a palm atop her shoulder. She patted his hand with her own before stating,

”All I can hope to do now is atone for my mistakes.”

Turning to Typho, she continued, “There’s no more time to delay. Let’s depart. The sooner we expose Palpatine for his crimes, the quicker we can all be reunited with Anakin.”

“May the Force be with you.” Obi-Wan said as she made her way out of the medical facility. Padmé returned the sentiment with a warm smile before disappearing through the palace, Typho at her side.

”Ahsoka,” Kitster began somberly from his bed, “I’m so sorry that I’m not well enough to return to Tatooine with you.”

”Don’t worry.” Ahsoka reassured him, “You just focus on rest and recovery for now. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow, we’ll be back with Anakin at our side.”

”That is all I can hope for.” He bid them farewell, “Be safe.”

* * *

In the hangar bay, Artoo waited aboard a sleek, silver ship’s loading ramp for Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and Jar-Jar to board.

Ahsoka took pilots chair once inside, much to Obi-Wan’s amused dismay.

”You don’t seem like the flying type.” Ahsoka shrugged at his raised brow, smirking. “Am I wrong?”

”Flying is for droids.” Obi-Wan conceded, laughing softly.

He took co-pilots chair, and Jar-Jar strapped into the passengers seat just behind him.

Ahsoka flew them out of the hangar and toward the sky. Once amongst the stars, Artoo keyed in their coordinates.  
  
 _‘Punch it, Ahsoka!’_ They beeped. Ahsoka smiled and activated the hyperdrive. The blur of hyperspace swallowed them.

 _Hang on, Anakin_ , she breathed between the distance of their minds, hoping more than anything that he _would_.

_I’ll be there soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... that new episode... how are we feeling??


	10. dreams

_“She is gifted.”_

_”... a momentous day! Young Ahsoka has displayed...”_

_”...contact the Jedi, the code...”_

_”Look here, little one. See the world beneath your feet? See the tall grasses, the twisting trees, the cool water that runs in the streams? Take it in, cherish it, by this time tomorrow you will...”_

_”... I’m terribly sorry, Master Jedi, she’s never seen a face unlike our own...”_

_”Ahsoka, why do you forsake us? A great opportunity has...”_

_”... clings to the one that looks like a monster, but abhors the one who has given us nary a reason to believe...”_

_”... Ahsoka, Ahsoka! I cannot find Ahsoka!”_

_”... has been taken. The one you believed to be a Jedi intercepted your transmission to the Temple. She is a Zygerrian, known for their conquest to enslave...”_

_“... our lost child! You must find our lost child!”_

Ahsoka woke with a jerk, the wailing of voices long forgotten chasing her out of sleep. She blinked her eyes open to find Obi-Wan stood above her, his knuckles pressed lightly to her temple.

”Obi-Wan...” She mumbled, still waking, “Do I have a fever?”

His brows drew briefly together.

”No.” He responded, disquieted, “Why, do you feel ill?”

”You we’re checking my temperature.” Ahsoka frowned, “... Right?”

”It was more a... comforting gesture.” Obi-Wan replied, bemused.

”... Must just be an Anakin thing, then.” Ahsoka figured, thinking back to their last night before the race, and even before that, to the first day, when the suns had made her unwell and how Anakin had helped her feel better. The memory found a small, bittersweet smile surge to her lips. She asked, smile fading as she remembered her dreams, “How close are we to Tatooine?”

”We’ve already landed.” Obi-Wan informed, “I came to wake you. You were... having dreams again?”

”Something like that.” Ahsoka huffed. She sat up and threw her legs over the bed. Together, they made their way out of the ship. Jar-Jar and Artoo waited at the foot of the loading ramp. Descending, Ahsoka noticed Artoo was too hesitant to follow.

”C’mon, Artooie.” She encouraged, shrugging, “The sand isn’t so bad.”

Artoo beeped their doubt.

”I’ll clean your servos later.” Ahsoka relented.

At that prospect, Artoo chirped and descended. The ship closed up behind them. Ahsoka turned, spotted the outline of Mos Espa in the distance.

”Put this on.” Obi-Wan said. She turned to find him holding a brown cloak to her. She fastened the clasps around her collar, threw up the hood and frowned. The voices from her dream echoed still in the back of her mind. 

”Meditation might help.” Obi-Wan commented, seeming to sense her struggle, “When there is time later, and if you so desire it, I can help you learn to focus and channel what the Force wills to show you.”

”I think I’ll take you up on that.” Ahsoka agreed. “But for now-”

”Weesa must be rescuing Anakin!” Jar-Jar declared. Ahsoka smiled at the Gungan. To Obi-Wan she said, gesturing to Jar-Jar with a thumb,

” _This_ guy’s got the right idea.”

* * *

The shop had been eviscerated. Ahsoka stood in the threshold of Anakin’s bedroom, astonished to find nearly all of his possessions had been taken: his holo-discs, his posters, his _blanket_...

”Whatsa happened here?” Jar-Jar asked, scratching the back of his head. Artoo made an inquiry beep of their own. Ahsoka touched the dry rock wall and whispered,

”I have no idea.”

”Hey, who is you?” Came a voice not belonging to her companions. Ahsoka turned to find a man of short stature standing in the open-roof storage facility, a deep-set scowl on his face.

”Hey, I recognize you!” The man pointed at her, “You’re Ashla. You’re supposed to be dead.”

”Is that so, my tiny friend?” Obi-Wan strolled into the room then, hood hanging low over his head. He’d separated from them to search the other parts of the shop that had, so far as Ahsoka knew, been thoroughly stripped bare.

”You got that pretty accent.” The man whirled on Obi-Wan, “But no tongue is silver enough to get away with talking to me that way.”

”I apologize.” Obi-Wan said, inclining his head, “It wasn’t my intention to offend you...?”

”... Weazel.” The man jerked his chin up, eyeing the three of them up and down. He pointed at Jar-Jar and said, “Say... you look familiar, too. I saw a creature funny looking like you about... Hmm, maybe ten years, was it?”

”It was meesa!” Jar-Jar said, gesturing towards himself, “I wassa here!”

”... Yeah.” Weazel nodded slowly, scoffing, “You were with that Jedi, the one who bet on Skywalker.”

”Speaking of.” Ahsoka interjected, “Where is he?”

”Skywalker?” Weazel shrugged. “No idea. Kid ran away.”

Ahsoka’s heart stuttered.

”... _What_?” She asked, sound barely shaping the word. Weazel turned away and started moving through the storage facility. Ahsoka followed him numbly.

”Pardon me.” Obi-Wan said from behind her, placing a hand atop her shoulder as he moved to intercept Weazel, “Might you elaborate on that?”

”Why should I?” Weazel asked, scowling.

Ahsoka’s hands balled into fists. Before she knew it, she had the man by his collar, had him off the ground...

”Listen to me.” Ahsoka said lowly, getting right in his shocked face, “Tell us what we want to know _right now_ or so help me I’ll _gut_ you like a Rokarian dirt fish.”

” _Ahsoka_!” Obi-Wan bristled.

”Hey, hey, hey!” Weazel kicked his feet out. “Set me down. _Set_ me _down_! I’ll talk, _suns above_! I’ll talk!”

Ahsoka dropped him. He hit the ground with a thud. Obi-Wan glared at her. She ignored him.

”Skywalker came running into Watto’s private box, a bit after you crashed your pod.” Weazel huffed, getting back onto his feet, “He got down on his knees, begging to go out there to get _you_. Watto refused him, which didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was the way the kid started using his voodoo powers to choke Watto. None of us stuck around after that. Skywalker’s got some kind of dark energy about him when he gets that way.”

Ahsoka shook her head, not wanting to believe it; but the memory of his Force signature, brilliant and beautiful and _deadly_ andleading her through the desert came again. Maybe there was darkness to him, but... _Anakin_ hadn’t felt like the darkness. To Ahsoka, he’d felt like the lightning that split the darkness in two.

“Anyway,” Weazel continued, “No sooner did we leave did he come running out again, arm all bloodied up. I went back inside to find Watto unconscious. When he woke up I asked him what happened. He said Skywalker found his transmitter and knocked him out.”

”Where did he go?” Ahsoka pressed.

”I don’t know.” Weazel sighed, “I thought he went looking for you, but seeing as you’re here and he’s not...”

Ahsoka’s gut twisted. The screech she’d heard in her dreams echoed in her memory.

”... Thank you for the information.” Obi-Wan said. “And I apologize on behalf of the youngling’s behavior.”

Ahsoka bit the inside of her cheek. Weazel regarded her. He said, chuckling derisively,

”You don’t even wonder about what happened here? Why this place is deserted?”

”Actually,” Ahsoka begrudgingly admitted, crossing her arms, “I did wonder. All of Anakin’s stuff is missing. I’d like to know how to get it back.”

”No chance of that.” Weazel taunted. Ahsoka took a threatening step forward, and he flinched back. Obi-Wan grabbed her by her shoulder and held her in place.

”Why is that?” Obi-Wan asked, too casually for Ahsoka’s taste. He conversed with Weazel like they were old pals.

”Because Watto’s dead.” Weazel confessed. Ahsoka gaped.

” _Dead_?” Obi-Wan asked, releasing her. He crossed his arms into the sleeves of his cloak and implored, “By what means?”

”His own, I’m afraid.” Weazel chuckled darkly, “He lost everything. _Again_. Guess it drove him off the canyon’s edge.”

Shrugging in defeat, Weazel continued, “He kept acting real paranoid, after the kid took off... but I couldn’t get out of him whatever had him so bothered. I just figured it was because he’d lost his business - and to me, no less.”

”Is that why everything is gone?” Obi-Wan asked, raising a single brow.

”You guessed it.” Weazel smirked, “I auctioned everything off. Gonna turn this place into a Twi’lek healing bathhouse. Now, can we be done here? I told you everything I know.”

”... Something does not feel right, here.” Obi-Wan began after a moment, stroking his beard. His eyes shifted around the room. “I sense in the Force we are missing a valuable part of your story.”

”I’m only one man.” Weazel defended, gesturing to the world beyond the once-shop, “But there’s plenty of others who can verify my words, if you’re so desperate.”

”That won’t be necessary.” Obi-Wan said, starting for the exit. He gestured Ahsoka, Jar-Jar and Artoo to follow. “We will not be finding the answers we seek here.”

”Anakin found his tracker.” Ahsoka said, dumbfounded. They wound their way through the streets, the suns beginning to set. “He _took out_ his tracker. But how did he...?”

 _His device_ , she comprehended, _Anakin must have found it after Kitster lost it_. Obi-Wan must have realized it at the same moment as she, based on the way he glanced at her. _How had it worked though? Had Watto deactivated his transmitter? Or... had the device worked all along?_

”He came to get me and... and I wasn’t there.” Ahsoka whispered, crestfallen. “I’d probably already left Tatooine with Kitster. And now something terrible has happened to him.”

”Ahsoka.” Obi-Wan said, stopping them at the far beyond the edge of the city, just a few feet of distance from their ship. “You informed us on Naboo that you believed it was Anakin who led you to him with the Force.”

”He did. At least, I think he did. He denied it when I asked him, but...”

She bit her lip, blinking...

”Let’s say it was how you said.” Obi-Wan encouraged, bending down to meet her at eye-level. “What did Anakin’s presence feel like? If you were to concentrate right here, right now and reach out for him again, do you think you could feel him?”

”... I can try.” Ahsoka conceded.

Obi-Wan nodded, lowered himself into a cross legged sitting position. Ahsoka replicated his position, placing her hands atop her knees. When Obi-Wan closed his eyes, she followed not a moment after.

”Whatsa theysa doin’?” Jar-Jar asked Artoo, leaning down to confer with the astromech. Artoo beeped, _Obi-Wan’s longest shut-eyed sit_.

”Concentrate first on what is before you.” Obi-Wan instructed, “With every breath you take, venture further and further out with your mind. You should feel my presence, and should be able to discern it from others.”

”You... remind me of a world I visited once.” Ahsoka said, inhaling and exhaling as images took shape in her mind. “Not the planet itself, but... there was this field of tall, golden reeds. I watched the sunrise from the ship. It was calming, but it left me a little sad, knowing I’d never see it again after Latrans secured her bounty.”

”... Perhaps you’ll visit that world again, one day.” Obi-Wan said, “Now that you’ve come to recognize me in the Force, I need you to travel beyond. Further and further until you’ve reached your limit, or until you think you’ve discovered Anakin.”

Ahsoka did. She felt so many lives, all part of the husk of Tatooine. Some were vile, some were radiant, some were lost and others found. But none felt anywhere close to Anakin until...

Until...

Lightning flashed behind her closed lids.

Ahsoka’s eyes snapped open. Obi-Wan opened his own eyes slowly, considering.

”I felt him.” Ahsoka breathed, “Far from here, and... faint. But it was him!”

”Can you point us in the direction?” Obi-Wan asked.

Ahsoka screwed her eyes shut, concentrating. She reached out again with metaphysical hand, but her grasp on him slipped. He fell through her fingers like the sands beneath her.

” _No_.” She huffed, shoulders slumping. She opened her eyes to find Obi-Wan’s concerned face regarding her. Ahsoka shook her head in defeat.

”That’s all right.” Obi-Wan assured, before his gaze cut to the city in sharp alarm. He sucked in a breath, sprung to his feet.

”... Obi-Wan?” Ahsoka asked, squinting against the sunlight. She put a hand over her eyes to block it out, and he turned back to say, urgently,

”Let’s go. I’ve a feeling we’ve worn out our welcome.”

With his help, Ahsoka got to her feet. She turned to the city to find a few figures lingering at its edge. She couldn’t make out any of their specifics, but she sensed what she suspected Obi-Wan had: malicious intent.

”They’re after me.” Ahsoka said, so certain of it that it almost left her cold with the truth. Obi-Wan placed an arm around her, guided her calmly to the ramp of the ship that lowered at their approach. Boarding swiftly, they prepped for take off.

”They won’t have you.” Obi-Wan assured, taking the controls for her. He flew them out of Mos Espa and further into the desert.

”Well, our plans have changed.” He said after they’d put themselves a good distance away from the city, allowing Artoo to take pilot. “Anakin has freed himself, and Watto is dead. Jar-Jar, it appears you won’t be needing to discuss terms of honor with Jabba.”

Jar-Jar let out a relieved sigh.

”Meesa not wanting to talk to himsa anyway.”

Obi-Wan smirked, but his expression fell swiftly at the sight of Ahsoka’s distraught face.

”Don’t worry, young one.” He assured, “We’ll find Anakin. We won’t be leaving until we do.”

”We should hurry.” Ahsoka responded, watching the twin suns begin their slow descent in the sky. “I have a feeling we don’t have much longer.”

* * *

In the night, lured from plagued slumber, Ahsoka rolled out of bed almost possessed. She recognized herself moving, knew if she wanted, she could stop and assess what, exactly, had coaxed her from sleep and into the night outside the ship. But she felt it would be counterproductive to whatever it was she needed to see.

The Force led her away.

Ahsoka walked. She walked until the lower half of her was covered in the residue of sand, until the sky was crimson from the rising suns. She had the thought, happening upon what appeared to be a salt flat, that maybe she should have woken Obi-Wan. But the time for that had passed. When she looked back over her shoulder, she could no longer make out their ship. It settled somewhere in the far distance, it’s occupants unaware that she’d ventured beyond.

In the distance, something moved. Ahsoka tracked their movement through her heightened sense of echolocation, caught the outline of their body against the backdrop of the rising suns. They walked with basket in hand along a track toward a line of spatially separated spikes, picking something off the sides before moving down the line to the next and repeating the process all over. Ahsoka watched, wondering...

The figure, seeming to spot her, stopped, stilled...

Then came the screech from her dreams, that terrible cry of the one who’d inflicted pain, and Ahsoka understood that it was not _she_ who the figure had spotted, but the ones running down from a high dune, staffs clutched in hands, roaring as they swarmed. The figure dropped their basket, it’s contents spilling, and ran. There were several on their tail. Without hesitation, Ahsoka struck out.

 _This_ is what the Force had woken her up for.

Ahsoka didn’t know how she managed it, but she was able to put herself between the ones from her dreams and the figure - who she then realized was a woman - and blast them back with all the strength she had. Repelled by the Force, they flew.

”Young one?” The woman asked from behind her, voice pleasant, if concerned. She sounded like all things soft and comforting. “Are you... are you alright?”

Ahsoka dropped to her knees, exerted by the power it had taken to perform that Force push alone. She looked over her shoulder to find the woman still cautious, still watching the distance as if afraid her assailants would come rushing back. Perhaps they would. Ahsoka knew not their lots persistence.

”I’m fine.” Ahsoka said, struggling back to her feet. She wobbled, and the woman reached out to steady her. Ahsoka surprised herself when she didn’t flinch away. Something about this woman seemed safe. Ahsoka leaned into her side as the woman guided them away.

”What about what you were gathering?” Ahsoka asked, looking back to see they’d been mushrooms. The woman had been collecting them off the spikes, which she then registered were vaporators. A moisture farm, Ahsoka understood it then, was what she’d stumbled upon.

”Leave it.” The woman said, “I’ll return for it in the day, when the suns are high and the Raiders are too afraid to return.”

”Raiders?” Ahsoka asked, “Is that what they are?”

“Tusken Raiders.” The woman nodded, “A native to this world.”

”What were they trying to do?” Ahsoka asked, “I felt their intent wasn’t... _good_ , to say the very least.”

”Take me, I suppose.” The woman shuddered at her own words.

Ahsoka faltered mid-step. In her dreams, she’d never seen their faces as she had just then, but she’d heard their screech, felt Anakin’s pain same as if it had been her own.

”They’ve taken my friend.” Ahsoka said, finally coming to terms with it. The woman’s arms tightened around her comfortingly, apologetically. “They took him almost a standard week ago.”

”I’m so sorry.” The woman said solemnly. “My husband has dealt with the Tusken Raiders before. If I ask him, he can help you retrieve your friend.”

”He would... do that?” Ahsoka asked, skeptical. She peered up at the woman who smiled reassuringly. Her eyes were dark and warm, trustworthy.

”You just saved my life.” She said, “I think that more than qualifies our indebtedness to you.”

”You don’t even know my name.” Ahsoka huffed, cheeks coloring.

”Then perhaps you’ll tell it to me?” The woman asked.

”... Ahsoka Tano.” Ahsoka asked, “What’s your’s?”

”Shmi Skywalker.” Shmi said, and Ahsoka’s eyes threatened to pop out of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how is everyone??


	11. now, be brave...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning that the following chapter deals with xenophobia/speciesism. though nothing is expressed that wasn’t already expressed and/or implied in canon during AotC, I thought it best to pre-warn, as this chapter deals with such controversial subject matter. I tell you this before moving forward so that no one is blind-sided. there might be a couple of uncomfortable moments, but the characters within this AU learn from them.

The suns had fully risen. Cliegg Lars swept out the sand that had spilled into the homestead’s living pit from the day before. He waited for his wife Shmi to return from her morning walk collecting the mushrooms off the vaporators. He was partway through his task when he heard her in the distance cry out desperately,

”My son! Cliegg, my son!”

 _Shmi_.

Cliegg was out of the homestead before she’d even reached the dome, catching her in his arms as she all but collapsed. Horrid tears streamed down her comely face. She clutched at his tunic with everything she had.

“Dearest...” He began, bewildered, “What’s wrong? What do you mean?”

”Dad?” Came Owen’s concerned voice, and footsteps from the stairs. He and Beru hurried out of the house, eyes darting between them. “ _Shmi_? Dad, what’s wrong?”

”It’s _Anakin_!” Shmi wailed, hiccuping on her sobs, “He’s been taken by the Tusken Raiders!”

“Anakin...?” Beru asked faintly from behind them, “But... you’d said the Jedi came back for him. How could he be... how was he taken?”

”Watto lied to me.” Shmi gasped, shaking all over. She dropped, no longer able to support herself. Cliegg sank with her, and Beru rushed to their side. “Watto _lied_ to me!”

”How do you know?” Cliegg implored, cupping her wet face. She leaned into his touch, screwed her eyes shut...

”I told her.” Came the voice of another, a voice he did not recognize. Cliegg looked up, found a young child standing just past them, her expression hard and solemn as she said, “Watto told Shmi that Qui-Gon came back for Anakin, but he lied.”

”...Why we would he lie about something like that?” Cliegg asked, frowning. “How do you know?”

”It’s... a long story.” The girl said, approaching slowly. She lowered down beside Shmi on her other side and said, “I’m... I’m so _sorry_.”

”... Why don’t we go inside?” Owen suggested, stepping up behind them all. Cliegg watched him address the girl. “And you can tell us what happened over breakfast.”

”We just finished making it.” Beru encouraged, rubbing Shmi’s back as her sobs subsided, “C’mon.”

* * *

Ahsoka sat at their table, fingers hanging loose around her glass of blue milk that dripped condensation. Shmi had become almost inconsolable after she’d related to the older woman the events that had led her to her son. Now, Ahsoka risked a glance at Anakin’s mother who sat directly across from her, and felt guilt so sharply and suddenly it threatened to break what little remained of her resolve.

”I’m so sorry, Shmi.” Ahsoka whispered, gulping down the waver in her words. She couldn’t meet the woman’s red-rimmed eyes. “This is all my fault. If I’d been more careful, Anakin never would have-”

A hand landed over her own, calloused but gentle fingers curling around her smaller ones...

Ahsoka gaped, looked up. Shmi’s brows drew together, a small, sad smile stretching her lips.

”Ahsoka,” She said, so softly, “I don’t blame you at all. And I know Anakin wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, either. None of what happened was your fault. Watto’s lies led me astray, but... they also brought us together. If you’d never met him then I fear...”

She took a deep breath...

”... I fear I might never have come to the knowledge that my son was still on Tatooine, that he had believed for so long that I was... _dead_.”

”I can’t understand Watto’s cruelty.” Ahsoka murmured, “Why would he lie to you about Qui-Gon returning for Anakin?”

“Whatever the reason... it doesn’t appear we need worry about Watto, anymore.” Cliegg said, wrapping an arm around Shmi’s shoulders. “If what you told us is true.”

”So far as I know.” Ahsoka replied, looking between them. “I... I didn’t sense it was a lie, anyway.”

”Tell me,” Shmi implored, never looking from Ahsoka, “What became of Qui-Gon? Do you know?”

”... He... he was killed.” Ahsoka confessed regretfully. “I’m... I’m sorry. I don’t know the details.”

Shmi nodded solemnly, looked down. Cliegg rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

”And now my son...” She whispered brokenly, shuddering, “My son is...”

”We’ll get him back.” Cliegg avowed, his grip on her tightening.

”How?” Ahsoka asked, “I don’t know where Anakin was taken. I looked for him using the... using the _Force,_ but... it’s not so easy.”

”Well, it _won’t_ be easy.” Cliegg began, “Those Tuskens... you saw them... they walk like men, but they’re vicious, mindless monsters. They attack unprovoked, take whatever they think is owed them.”

Ahsoka didn’t know what to say to that. Everything she’d experienced thus far in relation to the Tusken Raiders didn’t _dispute_ his claim, but...

”I’ll contact my friends.” Cliegg said a moment later, squeezing Shmi’s arm once more before rising from the table. He gestured at Owen to follow him out of the dining area and into another part of the house. Together, they departed, leaving Ahsoka, Shmi and Beru alone.

Ahsoka opened her mouth to say something when the wrist comm. Obi-Wan had given her before departing Naboo beeped, startling her. She opened its frequency, cringing back as Obi-Wan’s voice crackled to life...

” _Ahsoka! Where in the_ blazes _are you?_ ”

Shmi and Beru looked at her in alarm, looked at one another...

”Uh... excuse me.” Ahsoka said sheepishly, jumping to her feet and rushing from the room to receive his transmission.

* * *

“I do not agree with this.” Obi-Wan said.

Ahsoka tensed. She sat outside the homestead with a group of thirty other individuals, all of them fashioned in some way or another with weapons. Obi-Wan gazed out at them disapprovingly. They gazed back at him unflinchingly, challenging...

Cliegg and Owen had gathered them together, had just finished devising with them a plan for extraction. It involved, in no uncertain terms, _slaughter_. Ahsoka recognized vengeance in their eyes. It seemed all of them, in some way or another, had suffered losses at the hands of the Tusken Raiders. Anakin’s kidnapping seemed less personal to them than taking revenge for past incidents. Ahsoka hadn’t thought much of it; it hadn’t mattered to her at first, whatever their reasons for helping were, just so long as they _helped_. But then, seeing the look on Obi-Wan’s face, sensing his deep disagreement with the way they plotted to rescue Anakin...

”You got a better idea?” Cliegg asked Obi-Wan, not haughty, but not without a hint of dismissal, either.

”As of now?” Obi-Wan intoned carefully, “ _No_. But the Tusken Raiders have a reason for being so hostile; as it’s been made aware to me, their people were here long before you and will most likely be here _long_ after you’ve gone. I do not believe attacking them as you plan to do is in our best interests. There is a risk doing so would put Anakin in even _more_ danger than he already is.”

”You’re from the Core.” One said to Obi-Wan, “So we understand you don’t like dealing with things the hard way. But the Tusken Raiders can’t be talked out of anything. You either give them something they think is greater than they’ve already got, or you kill them before they kill you.”

”That simply isn’t true.” Obi-Wan remarked. Ahsoka watched some scoff, saw the way some had already written Obi-Wan off as delusional, but Obi-Wan continued, undeterred,

”Anakin being taken _alive_ proves that such an assumption isn’t correct.”

”How do we even know for sure he was taken?” Someone asked, fed up.

”Because I _felt_ it.” Ahsoka spoke up through gritted teeth, glaring at them.

”Because _that’s_ credible.” One retaliated.

”I _know_ he was taken!” Ahsoka stood up, hands balling. “I _felt_ his _pain_! We need to _stop_ squabbling over the details and _start_ looking for him.”

A few glanced at one another, uncertain. Shmi, who sat at Cliegg’s side, lowered her gaze in despair. Quietly she spoke to Obi-Wan,

”Master Jedi, I agree that violence is never the answer, but Cliegg is not entirely wrong about the Tusken Raiders. They are difficult to negotiate with. Many we know have been injured or even killed when they’ve come into contact with them. Just this morning, they tried to take me. Had Ahsoka not intervened, I fear that I...”

She swallowed hard, shook her head and continued, “I refuse to let Anakin remain at their mercy any longer, but I do not want for bloodshed. If there is anything you can think of that will allow us avoid such a dismal encounter, please, I implore you think of it quickly. We must depart by suns set.”

Obi-Wan considered that with a deep frown, gazed around the circle. His eyes stopped at the protocol droid - the one Anakin had built so long ago but never had the chance to finish before Watto had lied to Shmi and sold her. She’d taken the protocol droid with her in her misery, thinking it was all she’d had left of her son who’d she’d believed was whisked away to be a Jedi by Qui-Gon.

 _”Anakin never would have left without saying goodbye.”_ Ahsoka had told Shmi.

 _”I wanted to believe that.”_ Shmi had replied, _“But then I remembered what I’d told him so long ago when I’d thought we’d never see each other again:_ be brave, and don’t look back _. I thought he’d... thought he’d taken my words to heart, thought that perhaps he’d left without another word because it would have been too difficult, otherwise...”_

”Threepio.” Obi-Wan said, already familiar with the droid. They’d gone out of their way to make themselves known after Obi-Wan had arrived with Artoo and Jar-Jar aboard Padmé’s ship. “You informed me that you speak several languages.”

“Oh, that is correct.” Threepio responded exuberantly, “I am fluent in over six million forms of communication!”

”Yes.” Obi-Wan nodded, asked, “Then perhaps you can speak to the Tusken Raiders?”

”Well, I would be most honored to assist you, Master Jedi.” Threepio began hesitantly, “It is, um, unfortunate however that the Tusken Raiders’ language is one of the only forms of communication not stored in my memory databanks. They rely on hand gestures and signals to converse. Their form of dialogue has not yet been studied or archived, not in my central processing unit, at least.”

”Even if Threepio could talk to ‘em, they’d tear ‘em to pieces before they even uttered a word.” Cliegg remarked.

”Oh, dear me...” Threepio trailed off, faltering. Artoo cooed their agreement at Threepio’s side.

”Obi-Wan, sir.” Ahsoka interjected beneath her breath, “What are you stalling? The longer we sit here and talk is the longer Anakin is in danger!”

”It’s not sound, what Cliegg proposes.” Obi-Wan responded, “And it’s not _right_. It’s not the Jedi way to allow such senseless violence.”

”But they’ve hurt Anakin!” Ahsoka protested.

”There is another way. A _better_ way.” Obi-Wan implored, “Ahsoka, consider that there is a reason the Tusken Raiders have taken Anakin, that he hasn’t returned, that he’s _still_ alive. I say this to you not to justify the Tusken Raiders actions, but to ask you to see that the violence must stop. Somewhere, somehow, one must take the path of forgiveness or the violence will persist. Seeking vengeance won’t erase all they’ve done, it will only weigh upon _your_ conscious afterward.”

Ahsoka frowned, but did as he instructed. It was strange, she admitted to herself, that Lars and his friends considered the Tusken Raiders mindless monsters, vicious and savage, yet equipped themselves to the teeth with weapons and protection, ready to stampede upon them. If the Raiders were as Cliegg had described, then it shouldn’t have been difficult for Anakin to get away; he was smart and resourceful. She’d recognized it about him instantly. But Shmi had said the Tusken Raiders were a native to Tatooine, which meant they knew the land better than even the settlers. Perhaps Anakin had tried to escape. She pictured him lost, wandering the desert, desperate for water. She pictured the Tusken Raiders finding him, beating him, dragging him back to their camp...

She gasped, realizing all that she’d pictured hadn’t been imagined scenario at all, but rather the visions from her dreams playing out in clear focus. And something else to the memory of the vision, a complicated aspect she hadn’t looked at before: a deep hurt in the heart of the Tusken Raiders. Their pain was different, but no less real.

“I can’t understand their cruelty.” Ahsoka finally responded, “But I understand what you’re trying to say, Obi-Wan. I understand, and I see that my indifference to them is wrong. They’ve been hurt before, and so they lash out. Anakin just... happened to be the one they took their hurt out on in that moment.”

Obi-Wan considered her for a moment before turning back to the crowd to say,

”There is always a bigger fish. Tell me, do the Tuskens fear anything?”

”... The Krayt.” One spoke up after a beat, “The Sand people scatter as soon as they hear it coming.”

”I would like to know, then, where I might find one.” Obi-Wan replied.

* * *

In the desert again, the high-noon suns bearing down upon them, Ahsoka watched with disbelief as Obi-Wan attempted to connect with a Krayt Dragon using the Force.

”He’s moy bombad.” Jar-Jar commented, in awe. Ahsoka crossed her arms and shook her head. She didn’t agree. She was starting to think Obi-Wan wasn’t the wise leader she’d labeled him as back on Naboo, but a mad-man just really good at keeping up appearances.

In the distance, Obi-Wan held out his palm to the Dragon’s face, taking slow, measured steps back as the Dragon snapped and snarled, prowling ever closer.

”He’s going to be eaten alive!” Ahsoka exclaimed. She covered her eyes with one hand, peeking out between the gaps in her fingers as she said, “I can’t watch.”

But to her immense and utter shock, it only required a minute or so more of his concentrated effort, and then the beast was lowering to its haunches, pressing its snout into Obi-Wan’s outstretched hand.

”There.” Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief, wiping at his forehead beaded with sweat. Ahsoka approached hesitantly at Obi-Wan’s beckoning. His smile was encouraging as she reached out with her own hand...

The Krayt snuffed, shook its head. Ahsoka jumped back, but Obi-Wan murmured his soft reassurance. She tried again...

The Krayt Dragon blinked at her in greeting, then lowered its belly fully to the ground.

 _Hop aboard_ , it almost seemed to say in the way it tilted its head. Ahsoka shot a nervous glance at Obi-Wan.

”Take the ship back to the Lars’ homestead.” Obi-Wan instructed, humor in his eyes. “I’ll take the Dragon.”

”Whatever you say, Mister Obi-Wan, sir.” Ahsoka said in a rush before hurrying back to the safety of Padmé’s ship, Artoo and Jar-Jar not far behind.

* * *

They departed before nightfall. Though Obi-Wan had requested Cliegg and his party lay down their weapons, claiming they wouldn’t need them, they’d refused, stating it was ‘ _just in case_ ’ Obi-Wan’s plan fell through. Obi-Wan had insisted the weapons wouldn’t be necessary, but the group couldn’t be deterred; not even Shmi’s input could sway them. Obi-Wan wasn’t pleased but managed to come to an agreement with Cliegg and the others: they would only resort to using their weapons if the Tuskens attacked first. Begrudgingly they’d agreed, but Cliegg had avowed,

”You’ll see. We won’t all come out of this unscathed, and then you’ll be thanking me when you’ve got more support.”

He’d patted his blaster-rifle as he’d spoken, and Ahsoka had watched, conflicted, remembering the way she’d resorted to such unthinking, uncaring ruthlessness in the past.

”Ahsoka.” Came Shmi’s voice, “Something is troubling you.”

They sat in the back of Padmé’s ship, Cliegg and his entourage scattered around, piloting them through the desert in search of the Tusken Raiders’ encampment. Somewhere below on the surface, Obi-Wan followed them on Krayt’s back.

Ahsoka looked up at Shmi with reservation. Jar-Jar wasn’t around, had stayed behind with Artoo to watch over the homestead. Beru sat across from them, talking quietly with Owen. Cliegg and his friends were scattered further away, invested in their own conversations.

”It’s...” Ahsoka began, not quite able to reach Shmi’s eyes, “In the past, I never considered... I never thought to question...”

She sighed deeply, tried again, “I was so ready to get Anakin back, I didn’t think about the right or wrong of what it would take to do that.”

”Neither did I.” Shmi confessed, surprising Ahsoka enough into finally meeting her eyes. “All I could think after you’d told me what happened was that they had my son, and that they’d hurt him, and that I’d do whatever it would take to get him back. My grief made me forget for a moment that the galaxy doesn’t need any more cruelty.”

”I’ve never looked at things the way you and Obi-Wan do.” Ahsoka confessed, “Latrans...”

”... took you from a very young age, Ahsoka.” Shmi finished for her, wrapping her arms around her in a gentle hold. Ahsoka froze at the contact, uncertain, but ultimately melted into the embrace. She’d never been hugged before.

It felt... _nice._

“Whatever she made you do for her is _not_ your fault.” Shmi reassured her, voice soft, “You can’t blame yourself.”

”Isn’t that just making excuses, though?” Ahsoka asked into her shoulder. The back of her nose was burning. Her vision was blurring. Hot, wet tears spilled from her eyes and seeped into the material at Shmi’s shoulder. Ahsoka tried to pull away, but Shmi only held onto her tighter. Somehow, that made Ahsoka cry all the harder. “Even if she made me... I still hurt people. Even though I didn’t want to, even if I stopped thinking about how bad it was, how wrong it made me feel. What if I keep making mistakes?”

”It’s only an excuse if you continue to make mistakes without learning from them.” Shmi whispered, hand rubbing circles into her back. “No matter how far a person goes in life, they are not immune to shortcomings. Just as I experienced today; I am like anyone. I have weaknesses, and I don’t always make good decisions, just the ones I think are right in the moment. But that is a part of life, and it is a long process to becoming better.”

”... Thank you, Shmi.”

”No, Ahsoka, _thank you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a reference guide for speciesism in Star Wars. I’ve attached the link below if you’d like to know more about exactly what it is/how it manifests in canon.
> 
> [reference](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Speciesism)


	12. ... and don’t look back

They stopped once past suns’ fall to ask for directions from the Jawas. Threepio did the negotiating with Obi-Wan, and after a quick barter for a couple of the mechanisms in Padmé’s ship, they were off again. Ahsoka sat in the cockpit, legs folded, hands on her knees, searching for the lightning in the storm.

”... _There_.” Ahsoka said, shooting up. An encampment sat in the distance. The one behind the pilots controls set them down far from the Raiders’ settlement. Ahsoka was first off the ship, followed swiftly by Shmi and then the others. Obi-Wan reached them after a moment, using the makeshift reign he’d saddled the Krayt with before departing to bring the dragon to a swift and silent stop.

”All right.” Obi-Wan said, looking at Ahsoka, “Have we arrived?”

”We have.” Ahsoka said, certain. Her gut twisting with nervous energy. She could feel Anakin stronger than ever.

He didn’t feel good.

”Then you know what to do.” Obi-Wan nodded, addressing the group, “Stick to the plan. You know where you’re intended to be; some of you remain here with the ship, some of you follow me, and the rest follow Ahsoka.”

With that, Obi-Wan unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, handed it to Ahsoka with a nod before clicking his tongue and sending the Krayt forward. Half of Cliegg’s entourage followed him as he started for the camp.

”Let’s go.” Ahsoka turned to the rest, fingers curling around Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. They started on foot to the other side of the camp, opposite the entrance.

Ahead of them, mere shapes now, Ahsoka watched the Tusken Raiders leap into action at the call of the Krayt. It spurred them out of their huts, and their battle cry carried across the distance. Ahsoka picked up her pace. Some chased the Krayt as Obi-Wan maneuvered it around and then away from the settlement whilst others ran, panicked, picking up what they could and fleeing further into the desert.

Ahsoka came upon the outskirts of the village, mostly deserted now, and used the Force to search for Anakin. She felt him flickering, felt him respond to her presence immediately. She ran the edge of the camp, Shmi, Beru, Owen and Cliegg and the few others who’d followed them moving swiftly but silently just behind. Ahsoka pressed a palm to the outer wall of one of the huts, closed her eyes...

A moment later, she had the lightsaber activated and cutting through. The wall gave, fell at her feet. Ahsoka rushed through the opening, looked to one side, then the other...

... found Anakin strung up, his face bruised and bloodied, his clothes torn, his eyes and lips swollen, watching her.

”... Snips.” He said roughly, coughing, “You... shouldn’t be... here.”

Ahsoka couldn’t formulate a response. Her entire body stilled at the sight of him, and the lightsaber in her hand fell to the floor, deactivating as it rolled away. Shmi came through, hands flying to her mouth before she was on the ground, struggling to get his binds loose.

Anakin was speaking, his mouth shaping words that Ahsoka, in her stupor, couldn’t make out. She felt the movements of the others, too fast, too rapid, around her. She felt her heart suspend as Shmi and the others got Anakin down, his head lolling as they maneuvered him across Shmi’s lap. Shmi clutched her son to her chest, rocking him back and forth as she wept. Ahsoka watched, heartbroken, as Anakin reached for his mother’s face, wiping away her tears...

”... soka. Ahsoka!”

Ahsoka blinked, came back to herself. Beru and Owen stood at her side, shaking her to get her attention.

“Hurry!” Beru said, “There’s someone else.”

”Someone else?” Ahsoka asked blankly, reluctant to pull her gaze away from Anakin. Two of Cliegg’s friends helped get him up, wrapped his arms around their shoulders and began to drag him to the opening. He groaned in pain, tried to move with them. His feet dragged as they rushed him from the tent and out of the camp, Shmi on their heels...

Once he was out of her sight, Ahsoka bent down, scrabbled for Obi-Wan’s saber. She found it quickly, hurried to meet Owen and Beru outside and asked, “What do you mean there’s someone else?”

”Anakin said they had another here.” Beru whispered, following Owen as he ventured hesitantly toward the next tent. “A Rodian named Greedo.”

Ahsoka’s eyes widened. The one who’d threatened her in the street? What was he...?

Ahsoka shook her head. That didn’t matter, right now. She’d find out after they’d helped him, too.

”Where?” Ahsoka asked.

”Anakin didn’t know.” Owen replied, “But he said he thinks they might’ve been keeping him on the other side of the camp.”

”Let’s hurry.” Ahsoka said, getting anxious. She hurried with Owen and Beru across the center of the camp, felt movement from the side-

A Tusken Raider came at them, staff swinging. Ahsoka lunged back, activated the saber, swung up and cut the staff in two...

”Ahsoka!” Beru yelled.

”Go!” Ahsoka urged them, “I’ll hold them off!”

Reluctantly they listened, hurrying off to find Greedo. Ahsoka put herself between the Tusken Raider and the Lars, hoping to distract whilst they continued their search. The one who attacked her was a woman, Ahsoka realized. She tossed her severed staff into the sand, lunged forward...

Ahsoka deactivated the lightsaber, realizing she didn’t heed its threat. The Tusken woman jumped on top of her, and they went rolling dangerously close to a fire. Ahsoka used the Force to throw her off, jumped back to her feet and yelled, “I don’t want to hurt you!”

But the woman didn’t listen, kept swinging with her arms. Ahsoka dodged every blow, the reflex to get aggressive one she desperately pushed to ignore. In all the years under Latrans, she’d learned to channel rage and hurt into her powers - powers she now understood to be the Force - and in doing so, sent her thoughts and feelings into vile places. She’d never liked how it had made her feel, being forced into tapping into the Force in such a way. But in those moments, in all those years, Ahsoka couldn’t deny that she _had_ learned something.

And it was going to help her now.

Using the Force, Ahsoka pushed the woman back, plunged her hands into the sand and used all her pent up anger to _push_. A well formed, swallowing the woman as it sank deeper and deeper and...

Someone cried out sharply in alarm.

Ahsoka looked over her shoulder, saw a Tusken child whimpering from the side. He shook his head vigorously, making a gesture with his hands. Ahsoka didn’t understand what he communicated, but she didn’t need to. Asking for mercy was almost universal. She’d seen one too many targets ask for it from Latrans.

”I’m _sorry_.” Ahsoka gasped, rising to her feet. The child backed away slowly, looking between her and the well she’d formed. 

_She must be his mother,_ Ahsoka thought, stepping away. _She doesn’t know why we’re here, and she doesn’t care. She was just trying to protect her kid_. The child approached the well, calling for her. She called back desperately...

”I’m so sorry.” Ahsoka said again, lowering herself slowly back to the ground. She used the Force to fill the well back up just enough for the child to be able to help pull his mother out, then stood and hurried to find Owen and Beru.

They found her instead.

”Ahsoka!” Beru called. Ahsoka turned around a tent’s corner, found the couple with Greedo’s arms around their shoulders. They had hold of his wrists, keeping his unconscious body up as they worked their way out of the camp. His head sagged between their shoulders, and his feet dragged through the sand.

”Let’s get out of here.” Ahsoka urged them. They came out of the settlement, spotted the ship charging to life where’d they’d left it in the distance. Far away, the Krayt Dragon sounded. No blasters followed.

Obi-Wan’s plan had worked.

* * *

Ahsoka sat propped against Artoo, tired but unwilling to sleep. A closed door sat in front of her, the occupants on the other side tending to the one she felt through what Obi-Wan had referred to as a _fledgling bond_. Through it, she sought what she could not see, and it reassured her that the one on the other end was fine, if weak and tired.

”Ahsoka.” Came Beru’s voice. She looked up to find the older girl approaching from the hall with a tray of food. “It’s been a long night, and you haven’t slept. At least eat.”

She sat the tray down on the floor beside Ahsoka’s hip, lowered herself down a moment later. Together, they left the food untouched as they stared at the door. Eventually, the smell of the meal was too much to resist. Ahsoka reached down, grabbed a slab of meat and a piece of bread, took a bite and slowly chewed. Satisfied, Beru smiled before doing the same.

”Anakin’s going to be okay.” Beru spoke up after several minutes, the tray then mostly clean, “Shmi’s a good caretaker.”

”I know.” Ahsoka said, remembering the way it had felt when Shmi had wrapped her in her arms, “I just... I can’t shake my worry.”

”... I think you should get some rest.” Beru encouraged.

”I don’t want to leave him.” Ahsoka nodded at the door. “I want to be here when he wakes up.”

She felt Beru’s regarding gaze for a moment, and then the older girl was up, dusting off her long skirt and knocking on the door. A moment passed before Shmi appeared in the doorway, looking exhausted. Beru whispered something, and then Shmi’s widening eyes were on Ahsoka.

”Oh, young one,” she breathed, reaching down to her, “Come. Come here. Let’s get you in bed.”

At a loss, Ahsoka allowed Shmi pull her up, pull her in. The room was dark, took a moment for Ahsoka to adjust to. Shmi guided her around the lip of a bed, it’s sole occupant the unconscious Anakin. Ahsoka stared at him as Shmi pulled back the covers to a bed opposite. Ahsoka crawled beneath the sheets reluctantly, but when her head hit the pillow, she was asleep instantly.

* * *

When Ahsoka woke, it was to the sound of whispering voices.

”... escaped. But I never got very far. They always found me again, and there were too many to outrun. Then, I found out they had Greedo. Despite what a piece of bantha fodder he turned out to be-”

” _Ani_.”

”-I couldn’t just leave him there. But they’d had him for longer. He was too weak to try and escape.”

A sigh, and then, “My handsome boy. You’re a good person, even though you tarnish your tongue. I’m so _proud_ of you.”

” _Mom_...”

”Hush. Let me dote on you. I’m so... you have no idea what I went through, these last few years, these last few _hours_.”

”I know, Mom. I’m... I never thought I would see you again.”

”Shh. Don’t cry, my son. We’re together again, and that’s all that matters.”

”My dreams...”

”... never came to fruition. Now, rest. I’ll be back with dinner shortly.”

”Promise me. You aren’t going to disappear again. _Promise_ me.”

”Oh, Ani. Of course I promise you. I’ll _never_ leave you again.”

And then the door to the room opened, spilling light. Ahsoka kept her eyes shut, too afraid to move. She felt suddenly like an intruder. Shmi departed, and the door closed behind her.

”I know you’re awake, Snips.”

Ahsoka stayed absolutely still.

”And now you aren’t breathing. C’mon, the ruse is up. Just look at me.”

Sighing, she did. She sat up and turned...

And the sight of him threatened to break her heart.

Though the swelling on his face was less pronounced, the bruises were discoloring. He smiled at her weakly. Ahsoka drew her knees to her chest, managed to smile back.

”I won’t ask how you feel.” She said after a quiet moment, “I can feel it.”

”I know.” Anakin said, brow puzzling at his own words. “I understand what you mean.”

”Obi-Wan said it was a Force bond.” Ahsoka ventured quietly, “But... he didn’t really elaborate on what that is.”

”He told me the same.” Anakin said, “He was here just a bit before you woke up. He told me about everything that happened.”

“I’m... I’m so glad you’re okay.” Ahsoka said, trying and failing to force the wobble out of her words. “I kept dreaming and-”

”I know, Ahsoka.” Anakin said, expression softening, “I know. It’s okay. You don’t have to-”

The door opened. Obi-Wan entered, whispering,

”I just finished talking to Greedo. He-”

His eyes landed on Ahsoka, marginally widened.

”... You’re both awake. Good. This will save me the trouble of explaining twice.”

”What did he say?” Anakin asked, never looking away from her, even as Obi-Wan related to them,

”Greedo informed me that a bounty hunter known as Cad Bane had been hired by Latrans to track down Ahsoka. He contacted Greedo, among others, and Greedo aided him in discovering you, Ahsoka. Greedo believed he would be earning a cut of whatever Latrans offered, but... Cad Bane used him as a bargaining tool to secure a stake out in the Dune Canyons.”

”He gave Greedo to the Tusken Raiders?” Ahsoka asked, disbelieving.

Obi-Wan nodded.

”That piece of poodoo!” Anakin nearly shouted, “If I’d known Greedo was helping those bounty hunters, I’d have-”

”Ani...” Shmi said disapprovingly, reappearing in the door with a tray of food.

”That bounty hunter - Bane - he’s still out there.” Anakin said to Obi-Wan, insistent, “We need to find him before he finds Ahsoka.”

”... Bane didn’t seem too particularly interested in me, after Latrans showed up.” Ahsoka spoke up, “He actually seemed more interested in Latrans.”

”Still...” Anakin huffed, “I’d feel better if I knew we didn’t have to worry about either one of them anymore.”

”... I will see what can be done.” Obi-Wan said after a moment, stroking his beard. He turned to exit the room, and Shmi stepped fully in, set down the tray of food on the nightstand beside Anakin’s bed. She picked up a bowl of a thick soup and brought it to Ahsoka, who took it gratefully in both hands.

”Eat up, both of you.” Shmi said, “I expect to find the bowls licked clean when I return.”

”Yes, ma’am.” Ahsoka said, hiding her smile behind her bowl. Shmi noticed, however, and smiled at her in return.

* * *

Visitors came and went. Jar-Jar, then Threepio. Kitster and Anakin were reunited via hologram transmission. Introductions were made with the Lars family. Ahsoka noted, as the next few days passed, Obi-Wan and Cliegg seemed to be on better terms. Once, she even overhead Cliegg say,

”You’ve given me a lot to think about, how I exist here. You’ve made me want to be a better man for my family. Thank you, Master Jedi.”

And Anakin recovered quickly, was back on his feet within two days, even though he was still a bit weak. As he regained his strength, Ahsoka listened to and enjoyed the stories Shmi had to share about Anakin as a boy, laughing at the occasional embarrassing anecdote, much to his chagrin.

For the first time in Ahsoka’s life she felt... _free_. She felt like she had a family.

And then, on the fifth night, it was ruined by the blaster that pressed into her temple, waking her from a previously peaceful slumber. Ahsoka didn’t dare move when it’s nudging woke her. She breathed shallowly, waiting...

” _Get up_.” Latrans hissed. Ahsoka’s heart fell out of her chest. She rose up slowly from her bed, entire body shaking. She saw Latrans had one blaster aimed on her, and the other...

... the other she had aimed on Anakin’s sleeping form. 


	13. brewing storm pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Readers,
> 
> I took this long time away from writing/updating to find ways that I could support the Black Lives Matter movement. I tell you this because this is my only platform, because I’m devastated over all that’s been happening. I want you to know that I stand in solidarity with black lives.
> 
> I’ve attached a link below for ways to help, for those of us with the time and/or resources to do so. If we do not have such time and resources, however, remember that we still have our voices and our words, and so it’s vital that we use them to speak up in the face of racism and police brutality.
> 
> \- selcouthinspired
> 
> [ways to help](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)

_Five Standard Days Ago_

* * *

The beep of incoming holo-transmission roused Obi-Wan from sleep. He sat up in his bed aboard Padmé’s ship, ran his hand through his disheveled hair and stood. He checked the time on his chrono. Early morning hours. Grabbing his robe from the hook on the wall and pulling it around himself, Obi-Wan hurried down the hall and to the common area. There, he received the incoming hail. Tsabin’s holographic form sprung to life.

”Master Kenobi,” she said, expression grim, “How goes your search?”

”Successfully.” He responded. Frowning he asked, “Has something happened?”

”Cordé is... _dead_.” Tsabin said, eyes falling to the floor, “She took the Queen’s place to the Capitol. We’d landed on the tarmac, were almost in the clear. She was coming out of the ship when a fly-by bombed the skiff. We’ve sent her body back to Naboo.”

Obi-Wan’s heart dropped in his chest. Tsabin met his eyes again after a moment spent gathering herself, her own eyes blinking rapidly to ward off tears, and continued,

”Padmé won’t tell you this. She doesn’t want you worried. That, and she and Senator Oshadam are preoccupied with gathering the Senate for an emergency meeting.”

”Emergency meeting?” Obi-Wan asked, frown deepening.

”Padmé is... planning to oust the Chancellor.” Tsabin explained.

”... _Wonderful_.” Obi-Wan sighed, slumping back into the nearest seat. He ran a hand down his face, asked, long-suffering, “Is there anything else I should know?”

”Yes.” Tsabin said, “You are under heavy scrutiny by the Jedi Council. They came to us after the first attack-”

” _First_ attack? Is this to imply there was more than one?”

Tsabin winced, had the gall to look exasperated as she continued, “ _Someone_ desperately doesn’t want Padmé addressing the Senate.”

”It would appear so.” Obi-Wan retorted, crossing his arms as he leaned in to ask, “Just how many attempts have there been?”

”Only two. Two too many, though.”

” _Agreed_.”

”... Padmé doesn’t know I’ve contacted you. Nor do the Jedi.” Tsabin said, looking with alarm off to the side to something unseen. She looked back after a moment, tense line of her shoulders gradually easing as she continued, “We’ve stalled them at every turn, but they want to contact you. Tell me more about the search. You’d said it had gone successfully?”

”It has.” Obi-Wan responded, “We’ve retrieved Anakin. There were... complications. But all is well, now. He is recovering.”

” _Recovering_?” Tsabin asked, alarmed, “Was he ill?”

”No, he was...” Obi-Wan trailed off, sighed and settled with, “What happened is a story better told in person, I think. Besides, I don’t want to give Padmé, or _you_ , any more cause for concern.”

”... So be it.” Tsabin agreed reluctantly. Apologetically she continued, “I need to go, anyway. I’ll contact you when I next have the opportunity.”

And then she was gone, image dissipating above the console. Obi-Wan sat a moment longer, mulling over all she had revealed. He’d be in for it, he knew, when he returned to Coruscant. The Council would demand explanation on why he’d abandoned the Queen. He had no doubt Padmé had constructed enough diversions and excuses to hold them off, but Master Windu’s stubborn streak stretched as long as her own. Certainly, he suspected, they’d met their match in one another.

Rising from the common area, Obi-Wan ventured back through the quarters. He checked in on Jar-Jar first, who snored, deep in sleep. Next, he checked Ahsoka’s room only to discover...

... she was gone again.

* * *

“She wandered in here a few hours ago.” Shmi said quietly, standing in the doorway to Anakin’s room, Obi-Wan beside her, the two of them observing with fond expressions the scene before them: Anakin, asleep in his bed, one arm dangling off the edge, hand outstretched and holding onto Ahsoka’s own. Ahsoka slept on the floor just beside him, a pillow under her head and a blanket kicked off to her side.

Shmi stepped soundlessly into the room, took the discarded blanket and draped it over Ahsoka’s shivering form. Ahsoka shifted as the weight settled over her, hand almost slipping out of Anakin’s as she rolled onto her side. He seemed to sense her movement even in his sleep, for his fingers wrapped more tightly across her palm, kept her tethered to him through simple touch.

When Shmi returned to Obi-Wan’s side she whispered, teasingly, ”I’m sorry if she caused you any alarm. If what you told me about Force bonds are true, though, then I would advise you don’t be too alarmed if you find her missing again in the near future.”

”Its alright,” Obi-Wan assured. “I’m sorry for waking you. I just wanted to be sure she hadn’t wandered as far as she had the last time.”

”It was time I wake anyway,” Shmi waved his concern away. “Besides, you were worried. I can’t fault you for that. Come with me?”

Obi-Wan did, accompanying Shmi to the vaporators, picking the mushrooms with her, keeping one eye on the horizon as dawn approached. In the distance was the homestead, and though it grew smaller with every bit of distance they placed between themselves and it, one thing remained constant in its abundance: the Force signatures of the two who slept peacefully inside. Ahsoka was like air, shifting in intensity, able to bring a gentle breeze or a powerful gust, depending on the situation. Anakin was... an enigma in the Force; as powerful as Qui-Gon had predicted, though perhaps unaware of the full extent of his capabilities. Obi-Wan felt the danger present, simmering somewhere deep. He would be lying to himself if he said it didn’t cause him certain unease. It was... unsettling. Anakin felt and he felt deeply. His emotions ruled him. But with some training, maybe he’d be able to better hone in on such extreme feelings. 

”You came here to fulfill Qui-Gon’s promise.” Shmi stated, not looking at him as they finally made their way back to the homestead. The suns, just barely peeking above the horizon, cast an orange glow that lit Shmi’s features. On her face in full and clear view, Obi-Wan could see her expression streaked with faint forlorn.

”I did.” Obi-Wan agreed, “Though, if it makes you feel any better, I know the Council will not accept him. There might have been a possibility, in the past... now, however, he is too old for any formal kind of training.”

”Then you will not train him?” She asked, finally turning her gaze to meet his. There was a hint of despair in her eyes, dismay in her tone.

Obi-Wan frowned, took a moment to read her feelings. She was... at once worried, yet hopeful, despairing yet optimistic. When Obi-Wan finally read what she had not spoken, he asked, confused,

”You want me to train him, still?”

”I had hoped you would.” Shmi confessed, “I had hoped you would train him and Ahsoka, both. Anakin’s dream was always to be a Jedi. And Ahsoka’s story showed me just how dangerous the galaxy can be for an untrained Force sensitive. I don’t want them to embark upon the stars without some way to defend themselves against those who would cause them harm, harm they have _already_ had to endure.”

”You only just reunited with your son,” Obi-Wan reminded her softly. “Are you truly willing to let him go again so soon? More to the point, do you think he is willing to let go of _you_?”

”Of course not.” Shmi responded, “But I know Anakin was always destined for greater things. I know, with his freedom, he will yearn for something beyond this world. I am his mother, and I know he won’t want to leave me. It’s why, when he goes, I will go with him.”

”... I must warn you,” Obi-Wan said regretfully, “That the life of a Jedi is not easy, especially for one so attached to another as he is to you.”

Shmi raised a single, challenging brow and reminded him, “You yourself said he would not become a Jedi, that he is too old. Tell me, what danger is there in caring for another? In having compassion? What you call attachment, I call love. To me, it’s a vital part of life. Love is what saved me when I thought Anakin had left me for a second time. The love I have for my family, the love they have for me... it is what saves me even now.”

”You mistake my meaning.” Obi-Wan shook his head and explained, “The Jedi do love. We _must_ love. I would argue that it is a part of our mandate, at its core. But there is a danger in prioritizing our love, to love one or more beings more deeply than others.”

”You refer to his love for me and Ahsoka?” Shmi asked with a frown. She stopped, the homestead just feet away. Obi-Wan stilled, waited. Shmi pursed her lips in contemplation, finally said,

”I’ll concede that you think the way you do for a reason, but I must remind you, Anakin has yet to prove your assumptions of him - whatever they are - correct.”

When Obi-Wan opened his mouth to interject, Shmi held up a single hand, shook her head and said, “No, let me finish.”

Obi-Wan closed his mouth, nodded wordlessly for her to continue.

”Give Anakin a chance.” She implored, “If you learn to love him the way I do, if you learn to trust him,then you won’t steer him wrong. There is no sin, no shame in a feeling. It’s what brought us all together, after all. And now I am complete.”

Obi-Wan could not formulate a response. He merely watched her as she smiled knowingly, continuing on to the homestead after another moment, leaving him behind to contemplate all she had said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \+ I mistakenly wrote Sabé/Tsabin’s name as “Tsubin” in a previous chapter and didn’t catch it until recently :/ (it’s been fixed!)
> 
> ++ Oshadam was the name of the Senator who served before Padmé, representing Naboo and the Chommell sector. We first learn of this character in E.K. Johnston’s novel Queen’s Shadow
> 
> +++ after considerable debate with myself, I’ve decided that I will be making a sequel to this AU, as there are other avenues I’d like to explore within it that I won’t get to in this installment. I’m excited for what I have planned and can’t wait to share it with you all :)))
> 
> (as a result of this becoming a two-parter, I’ll be cleaning up the tags a bit, so expect to see them change in the coming days/weeks)
> 
> ++++ happy pride month!!!!!!! for those fans of Kaeden/Ahsoka, I have a surprise coming your way soon. It will appear under my works page before the end of the month <3


	14. brewing storm pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> long overdue, please accept my sincere apology! I’m sorry it took so long but please enjoy (^-^) I missed this AU and am glad to be able to write for it again

Padmé had never been one to be deterred from a course of action.

And now was no exception.

”Should we contact the Jedi Council?” Captain Typho asked of her as they hurried through the Senate rotunda, putting distance between themselves and the landing pad on which they’d arrived. Padmé shook her head, mouth twisting. The image of Cordé, blasted from the skiff by a fly-by bomber, still played over and over in her mind like a looping holoprojector. Padmé could no more erase the sound of her handmaiden’s dying words than she could the words she’d prepared on their way to Coruscant.

”No.” Padmé finally answered him, almost gasping on the word. She swallowed hard and forced her voice into the even, inflectionless tone of the Queen before continuing, “To alert them now would be to put Master Kenobi under intense scrutiny. They would call upon him to return from his current task on Tatooine. He is where he needs to be. The Jedi need not get involved unless things escalate.”

”All due respect, M’lady.” Typho said, rushed, “But things have already escalated.”

”Unless they further escalate, then.” Padmé said, “For now, we must convene with Senator Oshadam.”

* * *

Padmé was no stranger to taking risks, and neither were her loyal handmaidens. They were a committee, as much as a part of her security detail as Typho or Panaka. Which meant, when threats were leveled against her person, they had as much sway and influence as Padmé herself.

“You certainly have a knack for finding danger.” Cordé said, donning the Queen’s regalia as the others split between the low hood of the handmaiden and the helmets of the pilots.

This was a part of being Queen, Padmé reminded herself as the others dressed around her. She might not like it, but...

But, she begrudgingly conceded, it was unavoidable with Dooku’s threat hanging over everyone’s head.

”This isn’t without necessitation.” Tsabin had assured her as the handmaidens helped Padmé out of the Queen’s regalia, “Obi-Wan believes the threat is real, which means it’s not to be taken lightly.”

And it wasn’t, in the end, for Cordé would soon lie dying in her arms, blasted from the skiff of their cruiser by a fly-by bomber. Padmé threw off her pilots helmet, ran across the tarmac, dropped to her knees...

” _I’m sorry, M’lady._ ” Cordé gasped, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, “ _I failed you_.”

” _No..._ ” Padmé insisted, holding her slackening arms. “ _No!_ ”

That was before. Now it was mid-day, and the young Queen sat in Senator Oshadam’s office in the Senate building, still mourning. Words floated in and out of her awareness. Panaka and Typho conferred with Oshadam’s own security, were running perimeter checks whilst Oshadam waited to hear back from the Chancellor’s office about the emergency meeting she’s requested on Padmé’s behalf.

”I will support your call of no-confidence,” Oshadam confided to Padmé later, as the adrenaline of the early hours died down. The two of them sat waiting for the formal request to confer in the Grand Convocation. She continued, “But I must warn you, with the threat of war on the horizon, it could be difficult to pull the majority’s attention away from the pressing matter that is the military creation act.”

Padmé let out the breath she’d been holding. She’d hoped Oshadam would remain on the side of the people, that she too would feel scorned by Sheev’s lack of action when it came to their world. More than loyalty to the monarchy, Oshadam’s role as Senator boiled down to her own decisions. The fact that she was siding with her showed Padmé that she truly wanted Palpatine removed as much as she did.

”All the more reason for them to heed my words,” Padmé insisted, voice thick. She couldn’t erase Corde’s face, twisted in pain, from her mind. “When I’ve reminded the Senate that Palpatine was unable to garner stability against the Trade Federation on his own home world, it will destroy their confidence in his leadership. The Senate will question his ability to bring a Republic victory, should we truly be forced to engage in war.”

And so it was with head held high and expression void of all conflict that Padmé stepped into the Senate Rotunda that same afternoon. Palpatine, she noted, seemed unperturbed to see her standing in Oshadam’s pod, despite the fact that he’d paid no formal visit or sent any condolence. She knew he knew what had occurred, _knew_ he knew of the failed assassination attempt on her life. She’d been the talk of the holonews for the better part of the day.

Padmé noted his expression was one of... vexation. Though it was gone in the blink of an eye, wiped from his face as if it had never been there at all. If Dooku’s accusations were indeed true, as she believed them to be, then Padmé understood why it was so. Palpatine was a Sith Lord. The fact seemed almost unfathomable, even though she’d suspected of him to be deeply corrupted for the last decade. She knew, the instant she met his eyes, that he knew what she planned to do. Unperturbed, she met his thinly concealed glare head on. Unlike him, she didn’t hide her considerable anger behind a congenial facade. Mas Amedda gave her the floor, introducing her to the Senate. When Padmé spoke, crisp core world accent that demanded attention, it was to say, voice carrying across the chamber,

”Members of the Senate, esteemed representatives of the Republic-allied star systems, I come to you today with a terrible revelation. Count Dooku, known leader of the Republic opposition, the Confederacy of Independent Systems, came to me shortly after my home-world of Naboo was liberated from the Trade Federation after a ten-year embargo in which I was forced to sign away my freedom to ensure my civilizations survival. He came not with a desire to recruit my world to his cause, but instead for my loyal Jedi protector, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.

”Dooku sought an apprentice to combat the threat we have all mistakenly believed to have been vanquished ten years ago on Naboo: the Sith. Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi refused his offer, and in his desperation to have him reconsider, Dooku claimed that a Sith had control of the Republic’s Senate. _Our_ Senate.”

Shouts of hysteria and heresy flooded the rotunda. Padmé looked around, listening...

_”Speculation!”_

_”A Sith?”_

_”This is outrageous!”_

_”Surely this cannot be true, the Jedi would know it!”_

_”Who is this Sith? You don’t imply-”_

”Order!” Mas Ameda demanded, staff hitting the floor of Palpatine’s central pod, cutting the Senators off, “We must have order!”

”Ten years ago,” Padmé interjected when his demands were not met, effectively drawing the attention back to her, “When I stood before this very congress, I was bid to vote No Confidence in the Chancellor Vallorum. It was with great reluctance that I did so. I was young and impressionable. I mistakenly believed the advice of my advisor was absolute, that the actions he bid me take would liberate my people. And I was wrong. That advisor stands before you today, the esteemed Chancellor Palpatine, former Senator of Naboo, who did nothing to help his own homeworld after he was elected into his office. He stood by as our people suffered and died, as I was placed under a decade long house arrest, my influence stripped.”

Whispers of shock rippled through the Congress. It was as Padmé had feared. The truth had been concealed.

”I know this must come as a surprise to many of you.” She continued, “The Trade Federation took control of everything, our communication and even our sovereignty. I was re-elected through many rigged elections to remain in office, a puppet for the Trade Federation, forced to adhere to Nute Gunray’s every demand so that I could ensure my people did not perish. Several times I petitioned the Chancellor to assist us. I was denied. Worse than that, I was ignored. Several times I tried to reclaim my sovereignty. Once, my efforts landed me in the hands of a bounty hunter employed by the Trade Federation to mark my face, so that I would be forever distinguishable among the faces of my decoys, my loyal protection. But my people have suffered far worse fates for far longer. The only progress that was ever made against the Trade Federation, the only retribution ever enacted, was a rotation of Viceroy Nute Gunray through the Courts, Courts that have yet to reach a verdict after these ten long years.”

The Senators were once more in uproar. Padmé felt the conviction of her words entering their spirits. She heard in their growing voices demands for explanation.

”What if this were to happen to my world?” One Senator cried, pointing at Palpatine, whose gaze had never once strayed from Padmé’s unflinching own. “Would you subject _my_ people to such a fate as you’ve subjected your own? Would you forget about _us_?”

Padmé took a deep, centering breath. It was time.  
  
“I vote No Confidence in the Chancellor Palpatine, a politician powerless and, worse than that, unwilling to help the people he serves and represents escape oppression in their most desperate hour.”

If the Senate hadn’t erupted before, they certainly did then. Padmé didn’t turn back once, not even as Oshadam’s pod ventured back into its dock. She walked backward, never taking her eyes off of Palpatine until he was well out of sight.

”M’lady?” Typho asked as she came to a halt in the curving hall. A terrible shiver wracked her body, despite the warmth that her dark robes provided. Her entourage stood around her, their breath bated as they waited.

”... Contact the Jedi Temple.” Padmé instructed, voice still carrying the inflection of the Queen, “And tighten security. I have a feeling the threat against my life just worsened.”

* * *

“Are we to understand Knight Kenobi did not escort you here, knowing the threat against your life?” Master Windu asked, not even attempting to conceal the irritation in his voice.

Padmé stood in the Jedi High Council’s chambers, having explained to them the circumstances that brought her to them. It was nearing evening, the sun nearing its setting outside the chamber’s windows. Word of her vote had reached the High Council around the same time as she did. And now they stood discussing the matter of Dooku’s claim and Obi-Wan’s absence.

”Master Kenobi is on an assignment of his own. Under my orders.” Padmé explained, knowing it would only aggravate them further but pushing ahead. “I didn’t allow him accompany me.”

”You didn’t _allow_?” Windu asked, incredulous.

”Unsetting, is this revelation.” Master Yoda added.

Master Ki-Adi further emphasized, “For Obi-Wan to not inform us of such declarations as was disclosed in your throne room, to venture away without first consulting the Council, without gaining approval...”

”Indeed.” Jedi Master Master Plo Koon agreed, though there was, Padmé thought, a hint of amusement in his tone. “I would have expected such behavior from Qui-Gon. It’s unprecedented, to discover Obi-Wan displaying it.”

”Qui-Gon’s defiance,” Yoda sighed, “Obi-Wan does not need.”

”What you have implied of Chancellor Palpatine has thrown the Senate into chaos.” Master Mundi spoke up, “As we speak, there are worlds threatening to leave the Republic over the matter.”

”My intention was not to further divide our democracy.” Padmé assured, earnest. She did concede, however, “But I cannot lie and say I am not pleased with the result. I wanted change. I wanted results. Now, it appears I am getting them.”

”And now your life is in further danger, as result. Whether Dooku’s accusations were true or not, you must realize the target you have made of yourself.” Master Windu reminded her. He stood from his chair, approached her. Standing before her, the agitation clear in his eyes and voice, he declared,

”I appoint myself to Queen Amidala’s security detail, if the Council so approves, and if the Queen _allows_ it.” He said, his sarcastic emphasis on the word ‘allows’ not escaping her. 

”... I allow it.” Padmé agreed reluctantly when she realized the Jedi had been waiting for her verbal confirmation. Despite Windu’s near mocking scorn, to refuse his offer - immensely kind, given the circumstances - would have been counterproductive. Not to mention, petty.

She supposed she could have refused, the Senate lacking a Chancellor to authorize executive order over her at the moment. But she knew the Jedi, despite their obvious upset with her, were more concerned with her safety than continuing a line of dialogue that led them nowhere.

And to have one extra set of eyes - keen ones at that - on her detail, Padmé surmised, wouldn’t hurt.

”Then settled, it is.” Yoda stood as well, and the rest of the Jedi followed. “To the Senate building, we will go. Investigate this matter further, we must.”

”We need to escort you off-world.” Master Windu said to Padmé as the other Jedi started filing from the room and towards the lifts. He swept his arm forward, gesturing her walk with him. Padmé was shaking her head before he’d even finished the sentence, however. His worsening ire had already etched itself into his expression by the time she’d informed him, uncompromising,

”I do not like the idea of hiding. I’ve been hidden away for too long. If you want to protect me, you’ll have to do it on my terms.”

Master Windu’s eye twitched as he regarded her.

”M’lady” he began, not unkindly, but certainly clipped, “This is a matter concerting your safety. Knight Kenobi is already under the Council’s scrutiny. Compromise with me, and maybe I’ll be more inclined to understand why he’s abandoned his assignment during such a critical moment in time.”

Padmé considered him, relenting after a considering moment, ”Allow me stay until the Senate has reached a decision regarding my vote, and I’ll have Sabé contact him immediately.”

* * *

The beep of holo-transmission pierced the air. Obi-Wan awoke with a start, sat up in his bed aboard Padmé’s ship. Dressing quickly, he ventured into the cockpit to receive the call. He checked in on Jar-Jar as he went. The Gungan slept soundly.

Voice a whisper, so as to not wake his companion, Obi-Wan accepted the transmission and greeted, “Hello. Kenobi, here.”

”Master Kenobi.” Came Tsabin’s voice. She flickered to life across the projector, her expression grim. Obi-Wan’s heart sank instantly.

”Has something happened?” He asked.

”We’ve arrived at the capitol. Cordé... did not make it. We’re sending her body back to Naboo.”

”What happened?” He pressed, learning in.

”An assassin targeted the skiff. We’d had Padmé disguised as a pilot. Don’t worry. She wasn’t close to the blast. But... she was near enough.” Tsabin said dismally. “Padmé is... holding up. She’s a little shaken, but she’s every bit the Queen she always has been. She petitioned Senator Oshadam call an emergency Senate hearing and called a vote of no-confidence once it commenced. We have not heard from Chancellor Palpatine either before or after. We’re waiting for the Senate’s verdict. Tell me, how has your search gone?”

Obi-Wan, his face lined in exhaustion, sighed before the question had even fully left her mouth. Tsabin hummed at the chagrined look he gave her.

”It has gone successfully, despite minor hiccups.” He informed, a genuine smile stretching his lips as he regarded her, “We’ve retrieved Anakin. He is recovering now.”

”Recovering?” Tsabin asked, alarmed, “Was he ill?”

”... This is a rather long story to tell.” Obi-Wan confessed after a careful moment, “And it is one best told in person, I think.”

They lapsed into silence for what felt like minutes, though in reality it might have been seconds. Obi-Wan’s anxieties had him frowning. He rubbed the side of his face and asked,

”Any word from the Senate, yet? Did Queen Amidala’s vote go through?”

Tsabin shook her head, said, “No word yet.”

She glanced up from his flickering holographic image and to the side, then through the paneled glass door that separated her from the common area in Oshadam’s office. She found Master Windu and Padmé discussing something - more like _arguing_ something - beyond the room divider.

”I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” Obi-Wan asked, amused, despite the seriousness of the situation.

”It would appear so.” Tsabin answered, finding it in herself to match his amusement. She raised both brows at him, leaned forward and whispered, mock-conspiratorially, “The Jedi might be under the impression that you’ve been running Queen Amidala’s errands.“

”I see.” Obi-Wan laughed, but quickly sobered and added, “Tell the Queen that I should be on my way, soon. First I must allow Anakin time to-”

There was a banging, muffled shouts that emerged suddenly from his end of the line. Tsabin watched as Obi-Wan startled, jumped from where’d he been sitting aboard Amidala’s cruiser.

”What’s happening?” Tsabin asked. When Obi-Wan disappeared from her sight, she asked, more urgently, “ _Obi-Wan?_ ”

He blipped back into her line of sight after a moment and answered, rushed,

”I must go. Something has happened. Inform me as soon as the Senate has reached a decision.”

”I will.” Tsabin promised, taking the shifting circumstances in stride. She ordered quickly, “Stay safe.”

”You, too.” Obi-Wan demanded. His expression took on a profound grimness. He nodded once before the holo flickered to nothing. Tsabin frowned, pocketed the device and returned swiftly to the main room. Simultaneously, Padmé and Windu looked to her expectantly.

”Master Kenobi is well. He’s recovered what you sent him to find.” She said, and to keep Padmé from worrying, “He had something to attend to.”

Padmé smiled for the first time in hours, the effort of it profound and genuine. The look Master Windu shot Tsabin, however, was not agreeing. His scrutinizing gaze told her he knew the latter half of her statement wasn’t as she’d claimed - _perhaps he’d sensed her anxiety?_ \- but he spared her an interrogation over the matter. It went unspoken between them: they needn’t give Padmé any more reason to worry, whatever state of things Obi-Wan had encountered.

”The Senate has reached a decision.” Oshadam said before anything further could be discussed, walking into the office with her guards at her side, voice brighter than it had been hours previous, “Chancelor Palpatine has been voted out of office. Now, the Senate will reconvene within the hour to submit candidates for a new election.”

Tsabin eyed Padmé, expecting none of the emotion she was sure her Queen felt to slip into her features. Sure enough, when she returned her gaze to her, Padmé’s face had slipped once more into blankness. But Tsabin knew her well, saw the minute shift in her posture and expression. Relief was evident. Relief for Anakin, relief that her vote had passed, relief that real change would be garnered...

”Any word on the Jedi’s investigation?” Master Windu asked.

”They received him, following the convocation.” Oshadam informed, “I know nothing beyond that.”

”My work is done, then.” Padmé said, voice still carrying its regality, “Master Jedi, if it would please you, I will-”

Master Windu’s wrist communicator beeped insistently, cutting her off. Master Windu frowned, looked to Padmé. She nodded for him to take it. He did, and a harried voice called to him over the channel,

” _Master Windu, we need you urgently! Queen Amidala’s accusations were not unfounded. Palpatine has revealed himself to be a Sith! He’s attempting to flee the capitol_.”

Tsabin inhaled sharply. Master Windu’s shock was apparent. Those occupying the room reflected his alarm and despair.

”Send me your location!” He said, “I’ll be there shortly.”

The frequency ended. Windu instructed Typho and Panaka as he ran for the door, “Get her majesty out of here!”

The handmaidens stepped in before the order had even fully left his lips, surrounded her, hands helping her out of her dress. They changed then and there in that very room, Tsabin exchanging her robes for Padmé’s own. Padmé shot Tsabin an uncharacteristically frightened look, the only expression she’d let betray her courage the entire trip. Tsabin wrapped her in her arms as the other handmaidens worked to unclasp the head-dress.

”You’ll be fine.” Tsabin said, forcing the tremor out of her voice. She knew little about the Sith, only that one had infiltrated the palace all those years ago, that Kenobi had vanquished them, that the Sith as an entity were a dire threat, that they were supposed to be extinct. But it was as Dooku had claimed: one existed. And they had had control of the Senate. And it was _Palpatine_. Padmé had just made an _enemy_ of them. Padmé shook her head, returned her embrace fiercely.

”I’ve faced a Sith before. I’ve looked into his eyes.” She responded, “I wasn’t frightened then. I’m not frightened now, not for myself. It’s _you_ I’m worried about.”

Rabé unearthed the makeup remover she carried in the pocket beneath her robes, used one to wipe the stain off of Padmé’s face. Meanwhile, Dormé and Eirtaé pulled them apart, fitting the dress over Tsabin and applying the white powder, then the mourning marks. Their hands were precise, and though they rushed, Tsabin knew their precision would not prove how hurriedly they worked. When they’d finished, she’d look to any eyes like the Queen herself.

Dormé drew the low hood that would conceal the scar over Padmé’s head as they both fell into their respective roles. Beneath the cloak, Tsabin thought she saw Padmé shed a single tear.

”Dry your eyes.” Tsabin commanded, as softly as she could as she fell into the Queen’s voice, “We will see each other again.”

Padmé gave her a meaningful look, a look that seemed to say, _I don’t want to lose you, too. Not the way we lost..._

”Yes, your highness.” Padmé said instead, wiping the tear quickly away. She kept her head up, kept the scar concealed. The others drew away as they finished the details.

And then it was a whirlwind. The handmaidens dispersed as Windu had, a guard on each to throw off any pursuers. Tsabin knew Typho followed Padmé, and so refrained from watching them go as she turned to Oshadam.

”I will accompany you to the Grand Convocation, for the appointment and election.” She said, voice as steady as Padmé’s had been, as Queen. Oshadam nodded, expression one of only mild alarm as they walked to the rotunda. She was keeping her composure, despite everything. The only tell that Tsabin could see that any of them were affected by the recent turn of events leading them in separate directions were their hurried footsteps.

Not even Padmé, who’d only allowed her control to slip as she was stripped of the Queen’s regalia, was one to react to intimidation.

Tsabin spared her no second glance as she was escorted away. Even though she wanted to, she knew her every action now could potentially jeopardize her Queen’s safety.

And Padmé’s safety, always, was of the highest priority.


End file.
